Curl
by Jayni
Summary: Not being reposted/updated until future notice.
1. Chaper 1 - A Call From Mother

Author's Notes/Warnings:

Alternate Universe (AU) – The setting is in general contemporary era… yes, I know. It's been done before. Aoshi and Sano are half brothers, and Misao is a ward of Aoshi's grandfather. The other characters will just show up as I see fit.

Explicit Language / Mature Content – Although it may not appear a lot in the first couple of chapters that are building the plot and what not… it will happen. I can assure you.

By the way. Keep in mind any suggestions for a new title, I just used the title of a track I'm attached to right now by the Sneaker Pimps. It's a good song, look it up.

*-*-*-*

"Curl." by Jayni

*-*-*-*

Standing at the train platform, he wasn't quite sure what he should expect. Aoshi Shinomori had been living by himself for quite some time now. He was happy – no, content – with his life in Tokyo. At the age of twenty-eight, he was the overseer of Tokyo University's kempo club, and was helping with his father's business. A network and research firm, nothing terribly interesting, but the job paid well.

It had been so long since he had spoken to his mother, that when she called, it took him terribly off-guard. Since his parents divorce, his heart had hardened. He hadn't entirely forgiven his mother for being unfaithful, but there was little to be done about it now. The product of her… "exploits" was about to arrive. Aoshi asked himself for the umpteenth time, 'How did I get myself into this?'

*-*-*-*

"… uhm, yes, may I please be connected to Aoshi – Shinomori Aoshi?" The woman quickly corrected her informality.

"May I ask who's calling, ma'am?" said a nasal-voice of a nameless secretary on the other end of the line.

"His mother." There was a brief silence on the line, and she wasn't all that surprised. Her son had been given a choice, after the divorce… and he had chosen to stay with his father. The former Mrs. Shinomori almost gritted her teeth loud enough for the secretary to hear.

"One moment please." And then the annoying elevator music started.

She couldn't blame him for being angry, but if only he would understand… She was a woman, and she needed to be loved. His father was always busy, and at work. He was diligent, which was one of the reasons she had married him in the first place. But… all work and no play, makes for an unhappy marriage. Couldn't Aoshi remember all the birthdays he spent alone with her? All the parent-teacher conferences that his father always missed… Yes, he provided for his family, but she honestly questioned if he was ever fit to have one. She sighed, as she had been on the line for quite some time…

'He's stalling for time. He's been around his father far too long,' she grimaced, holding her tongue as she heard a definitive click on the other side of the line.

"Shinomori Aoshi speaking, and how may I help you?"

*-*-*-*

He knew full well who was calling. His secretary had stuttered for a solid minute to get the name of the caller out. 'My mother.' He saw her maybe… once, twice a year. At best. It took some holiday, some family function, some paper-signing, *something*… and that was the only way to drag that whore's carcass – 'Calm down, Aoshi,' he silently scolded himself. He had repressed all his anger and disappointment inside of him for so long… the last twenty years, to be exact. Maybe he was re-telling his father's opinions without realizing it, perhaps… He loved his mother, for giving him life. For the years before the divorce, he remembered them – whether she believed it or not. But it was his parents, yes, both of them, and their lessons of honor, and morals, that was the undoing of the relationship he had with his mother.

"… Hello Aoshi," that voice. Aoshi silently sank into his leather office chair, and swiveled away from the desk. He faced the full-length windows of his corner office, gingerly crossing one leg over the other. He had had so much practice in nonchalance. Even with no one watching, the production didn't end.

"Mother," he could hear his mother draw in a breath of hurt. Part of his mind cursed him for being so cold, but most of it was telling him that it simply couldn't be helped. This was how things were now.

"It's been quite some time… since last spring, ne?..." she was struggling for idle conversation. He was sure she wanted something, and mentally braced himself for impact. "Anything new?"

"Nothing in particular, Mother."

"… y-yes, well. I thought I might tell you…" 'Here it comes.' "… Sanosuke is moving to Tokyo."

*-*-*-*

Aoshi remembered a time long past, from when he was ten years old. He was sitting in a secluded corner of the gardens of his mother's house. He despised how he was forced to move back and forth periodically. Especially since she was with *that* man now. Sagara.

And it got worse. His mother had remarried four years ago, give or take. Only months after the divorce to his father. How could her heart be so fickle? First the spouses. Then the children. Aoshi's hands curled under the cold marble of the bench he sat on. He didn't look up when he heard the footsteps coming.

"Aoshi…" she had started calling him that since the divorce. Rather, he wouldn't let her call him anything else. No 'chan's 'kun's… nothing. She lost that right when he became her "half-son."

"Yes, Mother?" His turquoise gaze rested on moist blades of grass, calm as the sea itself, and as cold as the iceberg that brought down the Titanic.

"… why don't you play with Sano-chan? He's your brother…"

"Half," Aoshi rudely interrupted. He had nothing against Sanosuke, personally. You know, other than the fact that he was conceived dishonorably, while his mother was still married to his father, Aoshi was sure Sano was a very nice boy. 'Hah.'

The pained look on his mother's face didn't escape the corner of Aoshi's gaze. He knew he was hurting her this way. But he hurt. Didn't she care about how he felt about all this? "You can't be having any fun sitting out here all by yourself… just spend some time with little Sanosuke, maybe you'll get to like him…"

"You said that about your present husband, as I recall," He couldn't stop what he was saying. The part of his mind that held an apology was on lock-down, while nothing but hurt glazed over the surface of his being. Above that, there was just a thin protective layer of ice, which threatened to freeze anyone who touched it.

She couldn't hold back the tears anymore, and her hands joined his, underneath the bench. His mother hunched over as the tears spilled down her cheeks into her lap. "A-aoshi I know you don't…" she choked on her words briefly, "… can't believe that it was hard for me, too… at first," she added quickly. "… it's been four years already…"

"Four? Only? I had the impression that you knew Sagara quite a bit longer," he spat out at her, as he stood up suddenly. She leaned back, stunned. This was the most emotion he'd shown in all this time… "The bulge of your belly at your wedding proved that much." Then the young boy marched up to his room, and she could only wince as she could hear the door slamming from where she sat.

*-*-*-*

Over the years, Aoshi and Sano had come to an understanding. A truce, one could say. Although, Aoshi thought it was highly unlikely that he was prepared to spend the next year, if not longer, with his… younger brother.

Aoshi never apologized for any of the harsh words he told his mother back in those days. Part of him hoped that this would finally let her smile at him… like she had when he was little. When the smiles were genuine, and her gaze was pure, and the love…

The train arrived, causing a little commotion with the artificial wind, which jarred Aoshi from his deep contemplation. He quickly recalled the conversation where  his mother briefed him on the whats, wheres, and whens.

_"Sano will be arriving on the __noon__ train with Misao-"_

'… oh shit.'

====

Author's Note:

Ohohohoho… I bet you thought I forgot about poor little Misao. Well I'm thinking you can't have an Aoshi/Misao fic without her in it, ne? This fic actually transpired out of a dream I had where I was Misao, and Aoshi was trying to wake me up for school… but I didn't want to go because of like, a foot of snow outside… heh.

You've probably heard this a thousand times, but reviews are welcome.


	2. Chapter 2 - The Pick Up

'Makimachi,' Aoshi slowly cupped his forehead. He'd totally forgotten. (Gee, no kidding?) Spending all of his time reveling in the past, and teetering between remorse and rage… he had totally forgotten that she was coming, too. The only woman he's ever lived with was his own mother. 'And that was a *hell* of a long time ago.' How old was she supposed to be again? Sixteen? Seventeen? 'Note to self: Not a woman yet.'

The passengers flooded out of the train, and he suspected that Sano would wait until people freed up some space so that he could take his bags… and Misao's no doubt. Aoshi, as stoic as ever, glanced at his watch. Looking to his left, and then right, he noticed the platform clearing… Couples greeting each other with kisses and hugs… Fathers who gleefully scooped up their sons and daughters… Aoshi snorted slightly, as he went on searching with his eyes for his half-brother and the girl.

*-*-*-*

Aoshi looked at his grandfather with scrutiny as the old man bounced a content little girl in his lap.

"Well don't just stand there, keep an old man some company…" whispered Jiya, or as he was known to Aoshi and his other grandson – 'Half grandson.' … half grandson. He shifted the child in his arms, and smiled as little chubby hands began to reach up to him, with tiny gurgling giggles.

Aoshi complied, and simply stared. Apparently some friend of his grandfather's or something had passed away and left him this … girl … to take care of. The young man, at age twelve now, was not big on "babies." The only one he'd ever had to have been in close interaction with was Sano – and that was reluctant, at that.

"Aoshi-kun… this is Misao-chan… oh look, she's saying 'hi,'" and low and behold, the little blue-eyed darling motioned her arm up and down towards Aoshi. She was a small little thing, only two years old. "Say hello, Aoshi." The last word was bitten out, and Aoshi knew there was no room to argue.

With a deep sigh, most of it inwardly concealed, Aoshi leaned closer to the babe, and evenly said, "Hello Misao… chan." He felt weird, all squirmy. It was a baby after all, as far as he was concerned… and it was a *girl*. What was more surprising was the little girl's reaction to his calculated nature.

"… Aoshi-kun, I think she likes you," as though the chubby hands patting Aoshi's cheeks didn't already tell him that. Those clear blues gazed up at him as though he were the first and last thing on this earth.

'I like her,' he closed his blue-green eyes slowly, locking that small memory into his consciousness, as he felt Misao crawl into his lap and curl up into his chest and promptly decide it was naptime, or rather nap-on-Aoshi time.

*-*-*-*

Aoshi couldn't recall much else about her. Just that one memory held true… staring into those clear blues… as though nothing else in the world mattered but him. He couldn't remember feeling that way before, not since before the divorce. That was when his feelings still mattered. And before he was shipped off to boarding school in Europe.

But all else aside, he was shaken by the sudden yelling coming from inside one of the train cars. One of the voices sounded suspiciously like Sano's. Several of the workers on the platform were climbing into the car, as though to settle the disturbance… while the last remaining occupants of the train seemed to scatter out in a panicked state. He shook his head slowly, stalking over to the car, neatly cutting in front of one of the platform workers, and walking up the steel staircase.

*-*-*-*

If he remembered how to, he would've laughed. There was his kid brother, Sano. The one and only. As much as he hated to admit it… he was the only brother he had.

  
The aisle was small, and Sano was obviously arguing with someone… a female. They seemed to be wrestling over – luggage? '…oy, what happened to all your charm Sano?' A smirk played on the corner of Aoshi's lips, but flickered – and was gone as soon as it came.

"Sanosuke."

"Look weasel-girl, you're still a girl, and *I* should carry the bags!"

"I'm perfectly capable of carrying my own luggage, I'm not helpless! Rooster!"

"Yeah?! Then why do you cry your way out of parking tickets then?!!" Sano slipped into impersonation mode, as he sucked in his testosterone and began to talk in a squeaky chick voice, " 'Oh officer! I had no idea! Oh nooooo!!!' " To add to the drama, Sano began wiping his cheeks with a handkerchief he produced out of his pocket.

"I did that ONCE!"

"TWICE!"

"FINE! TWICE!" Their yelling was beginning to get to the point of shrill screeching. They had to be stopped.

"Sanosuke." Aoshi's patience was being stretched, regardless of how entertaining this all was. He had yet to catch a glimpse of the woman his brother was arguing with, but planted his hand on Sano's shoulder, to make his presence more obvious to the oblivious pair.

Sano near jumped out of his skin, and his head hit the ceiling of the train. "GEEZ! Aoshi don't bloody scare me like that!"

"Aoshi…?" Sano turned, so that his two companions could get a better look at one another. There was silence, and Sano took this opportunity to get the bags together.

"Makimachi." He was being a little over formal, but fact being that he hadn't seen this girl since she was knee-high. Quickly looking her over, "Are you two ready *now*?" He put some emphasis on the last syllable, bordering on annoyance.

"Yup," Sano said simply, as he trotted towards the opposite side of the car to the exit, looking terribly overloaded. Though he seemed to have no trouble with the backpack, two duffel bags, three suitcases… but no, there was no partridge, or pear tree. Misao stomped her foot once indignantly as her attention was drawn back to Sano. When Sano couldn't get through the door, then she nearly dropped to the floor laughing.

"'Don't need help,' he says. 'I'm a *real* man', he says…!" She braced herself on what she thought was a chair, to prevent her from falling. And when her hand clenched, as though to make a fist, she froze. She nearly trembled as she slowly turned her head to look up at the shadow towering over her.

*-*-*-*

"Are you quite done?" Aoshi said, while he plucked Misao off of his shirt. 'Those eyes…' He gently twirled her forward, as Sano had thrown some of the bags onto the platform, so he could get through the exit.

He had let go of her hand a couple of seconds ago, but her hand still lingered in the air. Gesturing to the exit, Misao – when her ship landed back on earth – directed herself through it. She walked past Sano quickly, patting at her cheeks a bit… Aoshi assumed because it was a bit colder outside than it was inside the train.

'If Sano catches me blushing, I won't hear the end of it,' Misao ground her teeth, and stomped her foot again, with new reverie. Spinning around on a heel, she fashioned a smile, "So, this is Tokyo, huh?"

"Unh," Aoshi took a duffel bag and a suitcase in hand, and Sano held no protest. Misao glared at the spikey-haired brunette with daggers in her eyes.

'Oh so if a GUY helps it's okay… GRR…' her hands fisted and then went undone… and fisted again. Then she turned, and found that Aoshi was already ten paces ahead of them. She stood there stunned, and simply blinked.

"I guess you wouldn't remember, but he's always like that," Sano smiled, and nudged his surrogate little sister off the platform.

====

Author's Note:

I love Sano. But don't think I'm pairing him up with Megumi – everybody usually does that, but frankly, I can't stand the woman. I haven't honestly even *thought* of bringing her into the story, and I will avoid the notion like the plague. u.u;;;…


	3. Chapter 3 - Home Sweet Penthouse

The three walked in silence. For about… a block.

"Oy, Aoshi. I don't remember you living this far from the train station," Sano scratched the back of his head after freeing up a finger from the duffel bag slung over his shoulder.

"You weren't carrying this much luggage the last time," his elder brother stated simply. It was the truth, though. Sanosuke had come to visit Aoshi on several brief occasions… in recent times, mostly to look at Tokyo University. When his mother told him that Sano finally got in, after his second year of trying, Aoshi almost couldn't believe it. He wondered how many people Sano had to beat up to get in. His – their mother had asked Aoshi to put in a good word, and thanked him for doing so, although he never actually *did* do it. Sano got in on his own merit, amazingly enough.

"Oy, weasel. Why so quiet?" Sano looked over his shoulder to see Misao lagging behind. Her sandals crunched the autumn leaves that were left on the sidewalks from the large trees along the roadside that shaded their path. She poked her head up, tossing her knee length braid over her shoulder… straightening up her baby blue sweater, she registered what he said.

"Rooster! I'm no weasel!" She promptly whacked him no the backside of his head.

"That's no way to treat your elders! WEASEL!" Sano jogged ahead playfully, circling in front of Aoshi for cover.

"No fair using Aoshi-sama for cover!"

"Oh it's '-sama' now, is it? Oooo!" When they reached the corner, Sano used the pole of the signal lights as cover, while Misao tried to lay a good punch on him. Even with the suitcases, he was still quite swift. Aoshi leaned against a nearby wall and let the two bicker.

'I have to live with *this*?' He mentally groaned. Although, he had to admit, it was rather amusing. Of course, he showed no signs of being entertained. Checking his watch again, 'I should break this up soon… it's almost one-thirty already.'

"Sanosuke. Makimachi." And time stopped. The two simply looked at him, as he cocked his head in the direction of his apartment building, not but fifty paces away. They both looked sheepishly at him, and then glared at one another. As they walked towards him, Aoshi placed himself between them, to ensure both of them would behave.

*-*-*-*

Just in front of the door, Aoshi felt his cell phone in his back pocket. Fishing it out, he checked the number… flipping it open, he didn't hesitate to speak.

"I've got them, nothing to worry about, Mother… Hai. Of course. Ja," and that was that. Misao and Sano exchanged looks. Her eyebrows were drawn together, almost saddened by Aoshi's tone. Sano simply shook his head… this was just the way he was. Aoshi unlocked the door, and holding it back with his foot, "Makimachi."

She scuttled by him, almost shyly… briefly intimidated after overhearing how he spoke to his own mother, his own flesh and blood. She briefly remembered all the stories Sano used to tell her about his ghoulish child-eating vampirical brother who they never saw because he was busy feasting on cute little weasel girls in Europe. The memory caused one of her winning smiles to surface.

"Arigato Aoshi-sama, and you may call me Misao…" She ducked her head quickly, out of sight, feeling her cheeks redden. Aoshi simply nodded, and gestured for Sano to pass as well. Misao should've paid attention, or else Sano wouldn't have been able to sneak up on her like he did.

"…so. What's got you all blushy?" Misao squealed, finding a grinning Sano over her shoulder. Instinct kicked in and she fisted her hand and flung her arm back and…

*POW!*

*-*-*-*

Aoshi watched as the young man he just let into the building was brutally spit back out. 'This is going to be a long… long year.'

*-*-*-*

Aoshi lived in the penthouse of the apartment building. Although his salary had yet to bring him happiness, at least he had comfort. Inserting a key into the elevator keypad, unlocking the penthouse floor, he stood along side Misao and a mildly distressed Sano.

"… Sano. Don't tell me you're scared of elevators, too? First trains and now…"

"I was *NOT* scared. I simply thought of something I had forgotten at home…" Sanosuke began to sweat uncomfortably, his hands gripping at the bags he was holding.

"Children. Please," as the elevator doors opened, Aoshi stepped through, holding the doors open with one arm blocking them. Misao and Sano obediently stepped through… Aoshi had a dangerous gleam in the corner of his eye. Neither one took a fancy to being disciplined by the head of Todai's kempo club. (Todai = Tokyo University) Although the thought had come to mind to a certain blue-eyed girl…

'Must… control… hormones,' her body screamed messages from her ears to her toes. She had taken the classes, knew all the trials and tribulations of… "developing." On occasion she felt stirrings for some of the boys in school, and could admit to herself that Sano-niisan – he was practically her brother, anyway – was reasonably good-looking. But it was never anything like this… Those eyes of his put her in a trance, she didn't know… or couldn't remember why. She could stare into his eyes forever- 

"Misao-chan" his voice was soft and low, coaxing her out of her daydreams. Aoshi looked at Sano with a 'stop slacking' look, and received a snort in reply. They both followed Aoshi across a small parlor room, that had three doors… one to the left, one to the right, and one dead ahead.

Sano had been here before, but he couldn't get over how his brother lived. 'Serious upper-crust stuff we're talkin' about here,' with that one free digit, he scratched at his chin. Everything in the building seemed planned out to a tee, so that everything seemed extremely elegant, without looking too… 'Chicky.' Sanosuke glanced back and the golden doors of the elevator as they closed behind them, 'Well I guess… this is home for a while.'

*-*-*-*

When he was six years old, his mother and father took him and his 'niisan to a picnic by a beautiful canal. Sanosuke couldn't remember much of those times… maybe because of all the drinking he did in high school… but he remembered that was his first real meeting with Aoshi. He knew that Aoshi didn't like him, and he couldn't exactly understand all the reasons back then…

'Well I dun like him neither,' Sano-chan nodded to himself as he balanced on some rocks by the water. 'He makes Mommy cry.' He remembered all of those visits, when he would poke his head out to see where his mother was, and found her… no doubt, crying, with Aoshi standing there, or in the middle of his retreat.

"Sano-chan! Don't stay so close to the water!" His mommy called, and he bounced off towards her. He nearly lost his footing, but he trotted on over to his parents and engulfed his dad in a warm hug.

'I want to be strong like Daddy some day.' Sanosuke held all of the memories of his father dear to him. He had been strong, yes… and loved everyone, and helped people he didn't even know… and yet he died no more than three years later.

The little spikey-headed boy glanced over at Aoshi. He was sitting straight-backed as though he were meditating. Sano took this as an opportunity to cause some mischief. With an evil grin, his rebellious streak running hot, as he spotted some chestnuts that his parents were planning to roast over an open fire. He snuck one into his hand, when his mother was busy setting up the food, and his father making idle chit chat with her as she did so… he tugged out a slingshot he'd been hiding his back pocket, and let 'er rip.

*-*-*-*

The little Sanosuke stood stupefied and awed. There Aoshi sat, not even flinching, snatching the chestnut out of the air in front of his forehead. Their parents failed to notice the commotion, as Aoshi had said nothing, and Sano was still dazed.

'I want to be strong like 'niisan some day…'

*-*-*-*

Yeah sure, so they weren't one-hundred percent kin. He could look up to whoever he damn well pleased. One day, maybe, he'd have the two-story apartment… complete with major appliances, high-speed internet, three bedrooms… and what a bachelor pad that would be. Speaking of which…

"Hey Aoshi… man, I hope we're not gonna cramp you're style by stayin' here," He elbowed Aoshi in the ribs gently as he led them to their rooms. The apartment was laid out so that upon entering… to the right was a small corridor leading to two bedrooms, and a bathroom at the end of the hall. To the left was the kitchenette, nothing fancy, just a counter with barstools laid in gray marble… sink, fridge, dishwasher, oven, microwave… the usual. In front of them was the living room slash dining room. A table seating eight built from mahogany with enchanting craftsmanship, with matching chairs with off-white cushions. In front of that was a small pit that served as the living room. A leather couch followed the contour of the pit, and there were carpeted stairs on either side leading down into it. The entire apartment was illuminated by full-length windows that were obviously tinted, as they had a darkened hue to them, so the light wasn't too stunning.

The second story of the apartment wasn't a full floor, but was simply stairs leading to a room above and behind the kitchenette. The walls were glass, and the navy curtains shrouded the room in mystery. Aoshi's room.

Sano had forgotten Misao had never been here before, to Tokyo, to Aoshi's. "Oy, Weasel girl, our rooms are this way… guess you turned the study into another bedroom?"

"Aa." Aoshi simply nodded. He was already in the corridor leading to the two bedrooms, placing the bags on the floor. Misao wandered around the main room of the apartment, spinning on her heels to soak everything in. She was accustomed to the old-fashioned restaurant and dojo her grandfather had kept intact for generations… all of this was all so new. "Dinner's at six."

"So early?!" Sanosuke almost mustered a pout. Aoshi simply looked at him. Any other elder brother would have smirked and slugged him. Sano's brother however, silently strode past him and Misao to his bedroom upstairs. "There's no reasoning with that icicle… Oy, weasel –" Sano's features softened. He put down the bags and gently walked over to Misao, popping her bubble as he gently rested his hands over her shoulders. "Misao-chan."

She looked up at him and smiled. 'I think I'm going to like it here.'

====

Author's Notes:

I am REALLY bad at describing dimensions and rooms. I usually don't do alternate reality fics, so it's usually not all that necessary… suggestions and commentary welcome. Reviews needed. I don't post more until I get at least a handful of reviews – and if you can have signed reviews, I'd really appreciate it, because I like to email and thank people for their feedback personally. ^-^ And also to discuss suggestions and things.


	4. Chapter 4 - Phone Calls and Pheromones

Author's Note:

I don't think I really established the "romance" half of the genre description… so I thought I should throw in some more sexual tension into the pot, just for kicks. This is a freebie… next time I'll really wait for reviews before I start posting again. =P

*-*-*-*

Misao lay on her back of her brand new room. It was pretty drab, but she didn't really expect anything spectacular. She'd grown up hearing terrible horror stories about Aoshi from Sano…So she hardly expected him to know how to decorate a girl's – young lady's room.

Her hands held up the pleated skirt that she would now have to wear. Jiya always went all out for his grandchildren... Well, technically she was his daughter - adoptive, of course. She couldn't remember her parents… the only parents she'd ever known was, well, Jiya. With regular visits from Sanosuke and his mother. Honestly, she couldn't remember Aoshi in the least, and before coming she was a ball of nerves. It's not like she honestly believed that he had weasel stew every morning for breakfast, but the stigma was there. 'Baka tori atama (rooster).'

She dropped her arms down, as she sprawled over her bed, her new skirt dangling from her fingers. Sano and Misao had quickly discovered which room was whose… The one with Misao's new school uniform obviously meant this room was hers. She didn't mind so much, although the notion of sharing a bathroom with Sano wasn't all that appealing. Speaking of which, what *was* he up to?

There was clattering coming from inside the bathroom and she assumed that it must be her "brother." She grinned, bouncing out of bed with a new vigor… Rapping her knuckles on the door, "OY! ROOSTER! This is the police! Come out with your wings behind your back! – ITAI! (OW!)"

Sano pulled open the door suddenly, dragging in the petite girl into a headlock and giving her a noogie, "You'll neva' get a holda' me, coppa'…" He smirked, although his impersonations were awful, it was all in good fun. He let her go and got slugged in the arm, he rubbed it to sooth the bruise on her ego.

"I was just wondering what you were up to – oh geez, no! No no no!" She stopped rocking back on her heels, and looked at the counter, and the array of bottles of cologne on it. "You are NOT turning this place into your own personal…" Her hands were edging and clawing at air, as she gestured madly, as she looked for the word.

"Orgy? Love den? Nest, perhaps?" He grinned simply, watching the shades of red his 'imouto-chan' ('little sister') took. "Oh, I see you like orgy the best, huh? I didn't know you were like *that*…"

"MOU! SAGARA SANOSUKE!" He found himself with a mouthful of soap, glaring at a girl who was wearing a satisfied grin, and clapping her hands together. She strode out of the bathroom with a victory slamming of the door, as she heard gagging and coughing coming from the bathroom. 'That'll teach him.'

*-*-*-*

Aoshi was on the other side of the apartment, sitting at his desk overlooking the sliding door to his private balcony. He had two phones in front of him, both of which were on speaker, a voice chimed in from one of them – a rather thick British English.

"Fellows, or chaps if I may, I don't believe this proposal is at all feasible in conjunction with paragraph four, sub-section 'c'… it would make the contract null and void…"

The other phone, with another English-speaker, however, not of British decent. There was a hint of an oriental accent, and Aoshi sat stoic as he watched – or rather, heard – the two bicker.

"Surely not, because if we concede to this new contract, we will certainly go under…" Aoshi pressed to finger tips to his temple. High-stress occupations are truly only for masochists. The conference call was scheduled for two, and Aoshi had made it with just a bit of time to spare.

He shook his head slowly, 'Those two… I swear…' He mistakenly let half a chuckle out.

"Mr. Shinomori. Do you find some comedy in all of this? Because I'd certainly love to know what it is, as I see no humor in this situation whatsoever."

"Gentlemen, if you would please just take a moment…"

"Do you not understand what we're up against here?! What's at stake!?" Aoshi took this as a cue to lower the volume on both telephones. He leaned back in his office chair, swinging around in a circle, taking a quick survey of his quarters. He'd made it entirely self-sufficient… His king-size bed, with navy silk sheets and down comforter, a small collection of books that he never got a chance to read under his night table. He had his own furo (Japanese bath tub) in his bathroom that took up the whole back of the room, facing the staircase. Then his "office"… consisted of his laptop, a couple of phones, and a desk. Oh, and the mini-fridge. 'Can't go without the mini-fridge.' He gingerly patted the white savior of freezerdom that was neatly tucked away under his desk. By now he had entirely stopped paying attention to the men on the phones.

"Gentlemen," he stated in a rather decisive tone, commanding silence from both of them. "If you would kindly submit both proposals to my secretary by the end of the week, the firm will take care of the details, as we always have. Now as I recall, this call should've ended over half an hour ago." It was already four… amazing how old men could waste time. And then he acknowledged some forms of farewells or goodbyes, he really didn't care, and hung up on them both.

Aoshi popped opened his fridge, and yanked out a lavender eye pillow, cool and soothing to rest over his eyelids. At first, he thought that such an "accessory" would challenge his masculinity. But first of all, it was a gift from his secretary, and second of all… if anyone were to challenge his masculinity, they wouldn't see what hit 'em. He allowed himself a smirk.

*-*-*-*

Sano stood in the mirror, examining himself. He wasn't sure about how he would keep his grades up in Todai, but frankly, he didn't care. He was here for the chicks. Stripping off his shirt, he began to model in the mirror. 'You, Sagara Sanosuke, are just what Tokyo's been waiting for.'

He stood with his back to the mirror, turning his head over his shoulder. His hands clasped together, as he deftly flexed, and did a little dance with his shoulder blades. 'You're good, Sagara.' Quickly turning around, as though the moment of his masculine beauty would be fleeting, he leaned close to the mirror, and inspected his teeth. 'Damn that Misao,' he could still taste the soap, and spotted one or two invasive bubbles between his front teeth. 'Oh but she'll get hers… in that all girls Catholic school-' his chuckling paused a minute, 'All girls?... Catholic?... uniforms? Oh Sagara, you dog you.' He grinned at himself as he leaned back and caressed his abs. He briefly tried to recall what the age of consent was…

*-*-*-*

Misao started unpacking her clothes… the other hint that this was supposed to be her room, was that there was a quaint little dressing table, complete with mirror tacked onto the wall. There were still two huge bookshelves against the walls on either side of her bed, she guessed her room used to be the study. But they weren't all that offensive looking… And if she took some of those books out, she'd have room for all of her pictures and things…

She slumped onto the edge of the bed, kicking at the floor. She was going to miss her old friends from school. Although the idea of moving to Tokyo sounded so glamorous and spectacular… she couldn't help but feel a little sad. But Misao was not one to stay unhappy for too long! 'No! Defeat is not an option!' As she shook her fist in front of her. Reaching into her now open suitcase, she fished out a picture of her with her best friend, Kaoru. For a while she suspected Sano having a thing for her, but let it slide due to his outrageous hormones. She wondered what Kaoru was doing right then at that moment.

'If I were back home, we'd be getting some ice cream right now at the corner shop…' she licked her lips and rubbed her stomach as she fell back onto the bed into a heap of clothes. 'I hope they have good places to eat in Tokyo… oh of course they do, Misao! Get a grip!'

Misao took a deep calming breath. Her senses were tickled by the smell of… sandalwood? It reminded her of home… with Jiya. This wasn't helping. She hopped off the bed.

"Time to explore!" she declared to herself as she marched out of the room to inspect the rest of the apartment.

*-*-*-*

Unfortunately, to Misao's dismay… there weren't many "nooks and crannies" to Aoshi's apartment. The only real mystery was Aoshi's room. 'Now, Misao. Behave.' She could almost hear Jiya's voice in the back of her head. She got this silly picture of 'the great Okina' shrunken to a little chibi, with wings, hanging over her shoulder. Oh and the halo! She covered her mouth to prevent from laughing out loud… 'Jiya with a halo… hah!'

But no matter how much she tried, she paced around the whole downstairs, in and out of her room… and the more she thought about it the sweeter did the forbidden fruit look. She looked up at his room again, and saw nothing but dark navy curtains. She wondered what he was doing in there… what he did in there…

Misao's hands clapped over her cheeks that had begun to heat up in geometric proportions, 'MISAO. BEHAVE.' She shook her head furiously, bouncing from one foot to the other, until she stumbled into the pit, right onto the couch. She bolted upright, looking around to make sure no one saw her. 'Geez… okay. Everything's okay. You're just a normal eighteen-year-old girl who lives with two eligible bachelors who aren't really blood related, and you'll be prancing around in some of the shortest skirts known to man… fulfilling at least three different fetishes at any given moment in time…' Her eyes widened as she smacked herself to bring her thoughts to a screeching halt. She fell back onto the leather upholstered couch, and stuffed a throw cushion onto her face.

'This is going to be a long… long year.'


	5. Chapter 5 - Werewolves n' Weasels

Author's Note:

Those who reviewed my fic, you have my many thanks. ^-^ (For those who signed, or left their e-mail address, they got a personal thank you note from moi. *^-^*) On that note, I will continue on with the story.

*-*-*-*

Misao stirred to the sound of clattering silverware, and the smell of food. Slowly, she had been charmed out of her slumber by the notion of 'dinner,' and rose from her place on the couch. She took another moment to let the scents engulf her… Another qualm she had about moving was she was afraid she'd miss all the home cooked food. But the clicking and clacking of pots and plates proved her wrong. Slowly she opened her eyes, to see a young woman – just a bit older than Sanosuke, perhaps – scuttling back and forth from the kitchen to the dining room setting the table for supper. The woman wasn't an eye-sore, that's for sure… but there was something remotely peculiar, though Misao couldn't quite put her finger on it.

*-*-*-*

Tae saw movement out of the corner of her eye. Delicately, as would a nursing mother to a child, she transferred the freshly cooked chicken breasts from their dish in the oven onto a serving plate. Letting a smile play on her features, causing her eyes to seemingly disappear, she made her way back to the table, giggling at the drooling young woman.

"Dinner will be served at six, as Shinomori-san requested," she gracefully bowed towards Misao, "You must be Makimachi-san," resting a hand on her chest she introduced herself, "I am Sekihara Tae, Shinomori-san's personal chef for the evening."

*-*-*-*

Misao looked over the woman, and snapped her fingers, 'AHA!... that's it. She – has no eyes???? Hoy, I'm genki, but I'm not that genki… (super happy/cheery)' A small sweat drop appeared at the side of her head, and she tossed her long braid over her shoulder, remembering her manners. Bowing politely, she smiled back, "Maa maa, just call me Misao, or Misao-chan," the girl blushed sheepishly. She was accustomed to either being 'Misao-chan' or 'Weasel' – all of this formality was a little embaressing. Then she realized something, and with a blink, she asked, "Anno – tonight??"

"Hai,… Misao-chan," Tae seemed to be testing the name on her tongue. Mentally shrugging away that brief concern, she went back to getting the dishes together for dinner. "Shinomori-san called the Akabeko and asked if someone could cater for dinner tonight as he had special guests staying with him." Something seemed to click in the back of her mind, looking at Misao again. 'Special?...' The younger girl couldn't see the scandalous nature of Tae's thoughts in her eyes, oh but they were there. Then she recalled she was setting the table for three, so she calmed her suspicions…

Briefly.

*-*-*-*

Sano, too, was seduced by the smell of food. He was brushing his teeth for the third time since he got out of the shower, until he was entirely satisfied he wasn't going to burp up a soap bubble. 'Stupid weasel.'

Slinging a towel over his shoulders and drying his hair with one hand, he sniffed at the air. 'Aoshi? Cooking? This I *gotta* see.' As the idea of his older brother in a frilly pink apron danced in his mind, he paraded out of his room with nothing more than the towel on his shoulders and a loose pair of sweatpants that were just *barely* hanging on his hips, he made an entrance.

"Oy, Aoshi – You never cooked before – …oro?" The tall young man found himself already half way into the dining room before he noticed two beets – er, women in the room. He got a roguish grin on his face, "Well, well. What do we have here then?"

*-*-*-*

Tae had lost her ability to speak, not that she had been doing much talking to begin with. Misao, still standing in 'the pit' of a living room, shook her head firmly to bring herself back to reality.

"SAGARA SANOSUKE," It was a firm, and rather loud statement. She put on a smile, keeping in mind that Tae was still in the room… motioning to the woman she softened her voice, but not her tone, "Can't you see that we have company? Perhaps!..." she nearly spat the word across the room, "You might do us the honor of putting some clothes on."

Tae hugged a plate to her chest, almost able to cut the tension between the two with a carving knife. And although Sano was nice to look at, Misao-chan was correct. She cleared her throat briefly, distracting the two would-be-combatants, "You must be Sagara-san," she bowed, both out of manners, and to avoid ogling at his glistening complexion. "I am Sekihara Tae, and I will be the cook for the evening."

"Oh, is *that* all? I thought the ol' icicle finally bagged himself a keeper—" Sano didn't know what hit him.

*-*-*-*

"SAGARA SANOSUKE…" The voice came blaring all the way upstairs, through the allegedly sound-proof glass. That girl had quite a mouth on her.

Aoshi wrung his hands through a small hand towel once more, having also been washing up for dinner. He was curious what the hell that rooster head had managed to do *now*… he shook his head briefly, casting the towel back into the bathroom over his shoulder.

Work, for him, didn't take many hours of the day, it was just one trying episode after the next. The reasons companies came to S.N.O.W, Shinomori Networking and Organization Workgroup, was so that himself and his people would do the job for them. But every so often, some old-fashioned cancer-ridden fools would decide that they knew how their companies should be run – well, then, why the hell would they need their help in the first place? 'We're the best, it's as simple as that,' and he knew it, their clients knew it, and damn as hell if most of Japan didn't know it. His father prided himself on having the strongest firm in the nation, and Aoshi saw no room to be anything else. But all of this aside, none of this was the matter at hand. He had to go downstairs and break up another brawl.

As he silently made his way down the staircase, he found himself walking in on the tail end of a conversation, "Oh, is *that* all? I thought the ol' icicle finally bagged himself a keeper—"

Surprisingly, Aoshi didn't have a chance to throttle his younger brother, as he would do, usually. '*Someone* had to teach him some respect,' and he didn't very well count on his mother to pass down anything in the realm of morals. Regardless of whose son he was, he was still his brother. That made him part Shinomori, whether he liked it or not. But that 'someone' was busy kicking Sano back into his room, with a tail of a braid trailing behind her.

Between kicks, Misao barked out orders, "Show *kick* respect *roundhouse* for *kickkick* your elders!" And topped off with a smack to the back of his head that finally throttled him into his bedroom, "And don't come out until you're properly dressed!"

Aoshi raised a slender eyebrow at the pair. Perhaps this would be easier than he thought, 'She could do all the work.' He didn't feel as though he needed a woman around to keep his kid brother in line, but it couldn't hurt. 'Note to self: Not yet a woman.'

"Araa – Shinomori-san, dinner is just about ready whenever…"

"Aa," he said simply, as he strode towards the table. Hearing footsteps pad across the carpet drawing nearer, "Misao-chan. Get washed up for dinner, please." Those very same footsteps came to an abrupt halt, and made a 180 in the opposite direction. As he picked off one of the covers on one of the dishes, Aoshi spoke softly, almost apologetically, "If this is all, you may go. Arigato gozaimasu."

"Hai, Shinomori-san, no trouble at all," Tae quickly rested the plate she was hugging onto the table… the last piece of the elegent setting, and got her things together. Taking off her apron, and slipping on her coat, "Feel free to call upon the Akabeko anytime…!" She shot him a winning smile, as though she hadn't just been a witness to what could've exploded into the next world war in sibling rivalry. Her previous presumptions of what was transpiring had entirely fled from her mind. How could she suspect someone as uptight – upstanding as Shinomori Aoshi of some sex scandal with a school girl… and boy, no less. As she made her way to the elevator, she silently scolded herself, as a faint blush came to her cheeks while less-than-tasteful images danced in her mind.

*-*-*-*

Aoshi stood behind his chair at the head of the table waiting for the two… children to emerge from their rooms. He wasn't quite sure if he was hoping for both to arrive at the table safely, or if he wanted another show.

It was quite amusing to watch Sanosuke at the mercy of a small… well. She wasn't as small as he'd expected. He honestly didn't remember much of Misao, other than those clear blue eyes, and those hadn't changed. The rest of her, however, sure as hell did. She wasn't fully matured yet… physically, mentally. That much was obvious. It looked as though Aoshi's mother had dropped two late-bloomers in his lap. At least the girl showed some form in her attacks, and the remnants of what could be potential.

Sanosuke took up kempo as soon as their mother would allow him to. She had been quite reluctant, 'Afraid he'd turn out like me, no doubt.' Although she knew full well his distaste for her had nothing to do with his training. That only conditioned him to hold some respectable restraint of his emotions. Business was cut-throat, people were liars, and Aoshi was not going to be taken as anybody's fool. Not like his father. Not even for his mother. Not for anybody.

*-*-*-*

Misao's face was a scandalous shade of red. The bathroom was still a bit steamy, but that had nothing to do with it. 'Stupid Sano…' She flicked on the fan, to whisk away the thick cloud of musk that filled the air.

In all honestly, she hadn't been in close contact with men… at least not like this. 'cept for Jiya, and in that big old house of theirs, they never really shared a bathroom or anything like that. She was used to seeing Sano topless; after all, they trained together under their grandfather. She undid her braid, to comb all the tresses back into place – they were strands sticking out in an unruly manner from her bout with Sano, and her nap. Resting her brush to her chest, she let out a deep sigh, 'That Aoshi… nearly gave me a heart attack.' Now she was starting to think that Sano's stories weren't all fairytales. Her mind was lost in her memories, as she unconsciously re-braided her hair.

*-*-*-*

"Mou, you're lying!"

"Am not! I DO have a brother!"

"Then why haven't I ever seen him then?! HUH?!" An eight-year-old Misao stood toe to toe with a ten-year-old Sanosuke. They were at a festival, and wearing traditional kimonos… which Misao didn't seem too happy about. Rather, she didn't care what she was wearing, she'd be ready to pummel Sano any day of the bloody week. "Gee, Sano-CHAN… I bet you made up a new imaginary friend, is that it?!"

Sano fumed. 'Only Mom has the right to call me that, dammit!' He promised her he'd behave. He promised. But dammit, this girl was trying his patience. And that imaginary friend thing was a *long* time ago. "I can't believe you remembered *that*… and couldn't remember Aoshi-kun."

"… A-aoshi?" Misao blinked as though the gears in her head were clicking together all at once. The name sounded familiar, yes. And a pair of sea blue eyes seemed to come to memory… but nothing much else.

"Oh so you *do* remember," Sano grinned triumphantly, as he pulled up one of his sleeves, and drew Misao under one of his arms. He panned his hand over the clear sky above, "Aoshi-kun is off at school in a faaar away land…" Misao seemed entirely entranced. "Where there are still princesses and princes and things…"

"Oy! Now I know you're lying!"

"No no no! I swear!... some Diana chick or something, but anyway…" Sano shook his hand in front of them as though to wash his storyboard to a clean slate. He looked right… and left… and over Misao's shoulder…

"Oy—" Misao quickly hushed as Sano motioned her to, whispering the way children don't know how to, she continued, "Sano-nii'… (big brother Sano) are there really princesses…?" He simply smiled down at her, and tossled her hair a bit.

"Yup, squirt," he lead her away from the crowds a bit, and they both settled down on a grassy knoll. Plucking at a blade of grass, and chewin' on it through the corner of his mouth, "And the princes have white horses, and all that good stuff." He stifled a chuckle when he heard a wide-eyed Misao gasp.

"What's Aoshi-nii' doin' all the way over there then?" She mimicked him snatchin' up a blade of grass… or what she thought was one. It was really a dandelion, and when she began to chew on the stem, she lost a taste for it almost immediately and started gagging and coughing. Sano gently patted her on the back, with a soft hazel gaze… She tossed it away, knowing from the look in his eyes that he wouldn't hold it against her that she couldn't copy him. Sniffin' a little, still a bit disappointed in herself that she couldn't be like her 'niichan, she scooted over on the grass and leaned her smaller frame against his side. With her head neatly nestled into the crook of his shoulder, he wrapped her up in one of his strong arms, and hugged her softly.

"Well, Aoshi's dad – we have different daddies," he got out before Misao could question. Misao got a funny feeling she shouldn't ask anymore about it, and settled back down. "Sent him off so when he came back he could see him all grown up…"

"Like a prince?" Sano only smirked, scratching at the side of his cheek. He nearly shook his head in negation, but then looking around as though he had another secret to tell.

"…I don't know if I should tell you this, but…"

"Sagara Sanosuke, if you don't tell me RIGHT this minute – !!" His hands clapped over her mouth, and sat her back down in his lap. Keeping his hands put, not willing to risk her screaming and alarming the whole nation, he continued in a hushed whisper.

"… but the REAL reason Shinomori-san sent Aoshi to school far away was because…" Sano made a quick spot check again, "… he's no ordinary boy." He felt her gasp beneath his hands, and knew it was safe to pull away. Resting his palms on the cool lush grass, he spat the blade of grass to the side. An eager Misao sat with a wide cerulean gaze, expectant. "They didn't want you to know, they think you're too young – but!" He waved a hand before she could start sputtering protests. "I'll tell you…"

"Arigato, Sano-nii'!!" Misao practically bounced in his lap, and nearly toppled them both over, "I won't tell a livin' soul I swear!"

He knew she couldn't hold to that promise, at least for more than a day or two, but regardless, "… well he's really… he's really a…" His voice was almost inaudible, causing Misao to lean closer and closer to him straining to hear… "… a werewolf." She gasped, her lower lip dropping and trembling. 'You've gotta be kiddin', she *bought* that?!'… Sano coughed into a fist, to conceal a chuckle.

"A-a-a… werewolf?" Her tiny hands clutched to the front of his kimono, her eyes glistening. He'd told her all the scary stories before about werewolves, vampires… and no matter how many times Jiya told her they were all fibs, she believed Sano more than that practical joker.

"And you know what werewolves eat, dontcha?" He clamped his hands over Misao's shoulders, so she couldn't get away too quickly. And brought her real close as though he were going to whisper… and paused dramatically.

*-*-*-*

"WEASEL!"

"WAHHH! JIYA…!!!" A terrified Misao bolted up the hill, while a cheerful young boy laughed and rolled down it.


	6. Chapter 6 - Parents Schmarents

Author's Note:

Geez, I know I'm taking forever to get to the knitty gritty… This is why AU fics are harder, because the setting isn't just provided for you. I've thanked all the reviewers personally, at least those who left their email addresses, and I'm hoping to meet many more interesting readers and writers. ^-^

*-*-*-*

Misao didn't figure that their first dinner together would be held in a traditional manner – where nobody spoke a single word, but simply ate. It shattered her nerves, and she tried to keep still, but she just couldn't manage it. She was picking at her food with a fork in her right hand, while the left was resting on the chair cushion, as if her arm was holding her up. Her feet were kicking underneath the table, like a child waiting for recess.

To everyone's surprise, Aoshi was the first to speak, but not until he was finished with his salad and moving on to the main course. "Your classes begin on Monday, Sanosuke?"

"Oy, 'Sano.' I warned you about that starch in your underwear…" Sano then took note of the fact that Aoshi had a knife in his hand. Blunt, but still a knife… though being stabbed with a blunt object probably would hurt a hell of a lot more than, say, a sword. "Er, anyway. No, that's just registering for courses. Classes don't actually start until two weeks after."

Then all eyes were on Misao. Obviously, Aoshi felt no need to reiterate the question, and he didn't like repeating himself, in any case. It took a soft kick under the table from Sano for her to wake up, and notice that Aoshi was looking at her.

"Eh… what was the question?" Her left hand rose up to scratch behind her head, as though she were flipping a switch which finally registered what was said, "Oh… OH! Right. Well, yeah… classes start on Wednesday… Monday and Tuesday are half days for orientation…" She swallowed a lump in her throat with some difficulty. She was outnumbered, two to one. Not to mention she was at least half of the size of either of them, and the youngest in the pot. Who wouldn't feel intimidated with that icy stare and those chocolate eyes?

'Uhm. Misao – hormone, check.' She mentally smacked her forehead… although that transpired to her head actually cocking back as though she had done it literally. That rewarded her with some strange looks as well, from both parties. Soft rouge appeared over the bridge of her nose, and she sheepishly continued eating.

"Who knew they made uniforms cut for weasels…" Sano grinned as he went onto his third helping.

'Behave, Misao. Behave.' She was trying *really* hard to make a good impression… after all, she would have to live here for at least the next year before she graduated. 'What a rotten time to move.' Sighing softly, she just rolled her eyes and took her frustration out on the poor grilled chicken breast on her plate.

*-*-*-*

The infamous rooster-boy… man… guy… nearly choked to death during one of his gluttonous exploits when there was the sudden clattering of silverware onto china. Aoshi merely glanced at the young lady who looked like she had just seen a lightning bolt hit twice in the same spot in front of her face.

"Misao-chan?" As Sano was… indisposed, Aoshi spoke up.

'That Aoshi. Can't keep him quiet, can we?' His younger brother would've smirked if he wasn't busy pounding his chest to get some food down his gullet into his anxiously awaiting stomach.

"…a-anno. I sort of forgot…" she swallowed nervously, tucking her hands under her, and looking down at her plate. "The first day of orientation is for the students… the second is for…" Misao briefly paused to draw in a breath, "…parents and students." She suddenly felt like she was sinking two floors down, and fading fast. 'If only Jiya… geez, what am I doing here…'

*-*-*-*

The table was silent. The topic of "parents" wasn't exactly a popular one among the diners. Let's review… Aoshi's parents divorced when he was a boy because his mother became pregnant with another man's child. Sano, the other man's child, grew up with a father constantly living in the shadow of his wife's first husband, and who died while he was still a boy. And then there was Misao.

No parents. Nothing.

Well, nothing connected by blood. Jiya was the love of her life, in the way that a mother and father – or in this case, grandfather, could be the center of her whole being and happiness. What heart she had belonged to the chicken-head sitting across from her, and Jiya. Sure, she had her one aunt… Aoshi and Sano's mother… but she pulled away after Sagara-san died. Usually, she just… tried not to think about it.

Sanosuke and Aoshi simply looked at one another in understanding. Sano knew both Misao and Aoshi almost as well as he knew himself. He knew what was going on in their heads, and it didn't come with a shiny bow or a pretty greeting card.

*-*-*-*

A young … younger Sano and Misao sat on the banks of the canal where his father used to take him on picnics. His mother cherished the little getaway. It was a peaceful place, bordered by tall lush trees that towered overhead. Their small feet dabbled in the cool waters, as they laid back and stared at the sky.

"Some day, weasel. I'm going to be tall like that tree," Sano said as he tucked his hands behind his head.

"In your dreams, chicken head." She uprooted some blades of grass and threw them at him, and he just chuckled and shrugged it off. Mimicking her 'niichan, she tucked her hands under her head as well.

They could hear the soft voices of Jiya and Sagara-san's widow, they sounded… bittersweet. It was as though they were trying too hard to sound happy. Misao's eyelids drifting half closed, and it was quite some time before she spoke again.

"Sano-nii'."

  
"Aa?" Sano had closed his eyes for a bit and peeked out of the corner of his eye to see an apathetic mask covering what was once the genki genki Makimachi Misao. He said nothing about it, but simply let her continue to get whatever it was on her chest, off her chest. 'And damn sure it ain't breasts.'

"What's it like to have a mother?" Sano blinked his eyes open, as though he thought he heard something he wasn't meant to. He licked his lips, preparing to speak… and then couldn't find the words. Misao turned to him when she heard him sigh, and start to get up.

He only sat up, and pulled his feet from the water, and looked blankly straight ahead of him, "If you're thinking you're any different because you don't have one… well, you're wrong." He'd seen enough movies and television to feel confident enough to counsel his imouto-chan. "Y'see, that's just not how the real world works…"

Okay, so both of them knew that neither had really experienced the harsh realities of the real world. Their respective parental units had prevented such a thing as far as the eye can see.

"You are who you are because of who you are and where you came from and the people you love, and those who love you," she looked at him with those clear blues, untouched by anything the cruel world had to offer. 'She's so… cute.' Her hair was whipping around her face with a soft gentle breeze… the blue-black strands framing her porcelain face. Sighing deeply… swearing he was going to hell just for *thinking* that… He swallowed to recover, trying not to lose his touch…"If that isn't enough for you weasel, I hope a pack of hunting dogs drag your carcass down stream and rip you apart." He slowly brought his attention back to her face, after staring at a tree far beyond where they were sitting. Suddenly, he stiffened as he felt two smaller arms wrap around his neck, and he didn't refuse.

They hugged at the canal for a bit, with two teary-eyed on-lookers, who saw a bright and happy future for their children. It was one of the few peaceful moments the two would ever share, and locked away in their hearts, knowing love the way only children can.


	7. Chapter 7 - R-E-S-P-E-C-T

"I'll go."

Sano nearly choked again, but forced down the obstruction with a swift jab to his chest. He winced. 'That's going to bruise.' "Oy, Aoshi. I can go, I mean between me and Jiya we practically –"

"She is currently in my custody, it would only make sense that I go," Aoshi didn't even look up from his food as he spoke. He didn't think the school would be very much impressed if Sanosuke were to go with Misao. Frankly, he didn't want a lawsuit on his hands any time soon. 'There's only two years difference between them, after all.' It seemed the logical decision.

Misao seemed as though she was still in shock. Apparently, the thought had never even crossed her mind. She was closer to the conclusion of calling Jiya to excuse his absence, or getting him to Tokyo for the day. Her features softened, curling her feet behind the front legs of her chair. She began to eat again, slowly. 'Aoshi-sama's not very good with expressing anything… maybe this is his way of welcoming me to the neighborhood.' She noticeably brightened since the initial shock of the potential problem. "Arigato gozaimasu, Aoshi-sama," she said simply.

"Oy, what's with this '-sama' stuff?" It seemed that the third helping did the trick, as Sano wiped his mouth with a napkin, and leaned back leisurely in his chair.

"It's called 'respect for your elders,' ever heard of it?!" Misao bit out, glaring at her adversary across the table, nearly slicing through the plate she was eating off of.

Aoshi was seemingly not surprised by these turn of events, as he was… seemingly never surprised by anything. Frankly, he'd been waiting for it. '… I might as well get used to it.'

"Oh how the weasel forgets that I, Sagara Sanosuke, am *YOUR* elder," he grinned triumphantly as Misao was grinding her own words between her teeth. Crossing his arms in front of his chest, he kicked up his right foot to rest an ankle on his left knee.

"Sano. Go to your room."

"WHAT?!" Sano bolted out of his chair, sending the chair skidding across the floor a foot behind him. Slamming his palms onto the table, causing everything on it to tremble, and he almost managed a laugh. "You're joking, right?! Look, you can pull that father-figure crap with her, but I'm your—"

"… little brother." Aoshi had yet to look up from his eating, quite diligent in the task at hand. Taking his sweet time, as though savoring the scent of his lady fair, he was enjoying his meal… unlike some people in the immediate vicinity. "As you are done with your meal, you are excused to leave."

Sano pulled up his chair and spoke as he did, "Well maybe I'm not ready to go yet…" It seemed the young man wanted dessert. Although, the glare of negation from his elder was, clearly, not to be questioned. He quickly re-adjusted his stance and pushed the chair back under the table, "But lucky for you, I am."

*-*-*-*

In any other circumstance, Misao would've laughed and pointed. However, Aoshi was obviously not a man to be reckoned with it seemed, particularly, when he was eating. So, this once, she let it lie. "A-anno, Aoshi-sama…" she 'eeped' when he looked over to her. Just about done with her food, she set her fork and knife across her plate to signify that she was finished. "Uhm, well… about Tuesday… you really don't have to – I could just tell them that –"

"I'm going." Misao swallowed audibly. "…unless of course, that's a problem?"

"Ah… uhm… no!" She quickly got that out of her system, she didn't want to seem ungrateful after all. "It's just… you have work and things and… things." Not knowing what it was he did with his free time, or his work time for that matter, she didn't want to impose… not that… living under his roof wasn't imposing or anything. He simply shook his head.

They sat in silence for a couple more minutes, Misao sitting with her hands fidgeting in her lap, and her feet swinging. "Aoshi-sama?... would you need help with the dishes?"

'At least she asked,' he thought, smirking in the back of his head. Though, honestly, he never expected Sano to offer. "Iie, Misao-chan. You may go." Watching as she bowed her head, he noted the awkwardness in her step as she shuffled across the carpet to her room and quickly – and yet, stealthily – closed the door behind her. 'Curious girl.'

*-*-*-*

Standing in the bathroom, Misao began arranging her toiletries as well. Conveniently, there were two medicine cabinets resting on the walls adjacent to each of the bedrooms. Sano's was, of course, the one closer to his room… which made the other Misao's by default.

'Stupid rooster…' Could he go any more out of his way to make her look bad? She groaned inwardly, as she stacked the few cosmetics she had into her medicine cabinet. There was only one or two lip glosses, and a single bottle of perfume. She wasn't big on putting a bunch of gunk on her face… she had better things to do. Taking account of all of her other basic necessities, she put them all away after inventory and closed the cabinet.

There was a brief pause. Tapping her foot, she racked her brain for what was missing. Something just didn't feel right.

*-*-*-*

Sanosuke, back in his sweatpants, draped himself lazily off the side of his bed. The sheets were a dark navy, with a black down comforter resting on top of them. There wasn't much furniture in there, really. Mostly, there was just a desk, a closet, and some chest of drawers. Oh, and of course, the customary night tables on either side of the king-size bed. (A bed any smaller wouldn't accommodate someone of his height, in any case.) The blinds were drawn over the window that took up most of the far wall. But Sano's mind was anywhere but on the accommodations.

'Stupid Aoshi…' He tucked his arms behind his head, staring at the ceiling. It was starting to look like this was going to be a military state. Rolling over onto his side, he took a whack at the defenseless mattress. 'Stupid weasel…'

Sano reached from his bag, which was lying against the side of the bed, and shuffled through the mess of stuff that filled it. A crumpled, battered envelope was produced, and quickly discarded. '… Nine? That's not too early in the morning…' Not that he had any plans.

Lazily, he rolled back onto his back, staring at the ceiling. The letter was pressed over his chest, and he let his eyes close on his dark hazel gaze.

*-*-*-*

"I don't have to listen to you! You're NOT my father!!"

Sano lay on his back on his bed, back in their home in Kyoto. His arms were folded over a pillow that covered his face. He hated this. Only five years old, and he knew what it felt like to hate.

"You can't speak to him that way!"

His fingers curled into the once comforting pillow. If it would just stop… if they could just stop…

"You can't tell me what to do! You're just a backstabbing whore –!"

His eyelids shut tighter than they were ever meant to naturally, forcing out a single tear that no one would ever see. The cracking sound of a hard slap, then the stomping outside his bedroom door and down the hall, and then there was the inevitable slamming of doors, on either end of the house. Sanosuke knew what was to come in the hours ahead… the sounds of his mother's muffled sobbing, and his father's soft attempts to calm her down… And of course, the other wall screamed of the broken toys and lamps that were thrown against it.

Why did his brother beg for his mother to slap him like that? Why did he make her cry?

Sanosuke was always taught to respect his elders. But what made Aoshi so special that he didn't have to? And Misao… only three years old, and she could probably get away with murder if she knew what it was.

It just wasn't fair.

===

Author's Note: (this isn't *that* important, hell I usually skip the end notes, myself. ^-^;;;;)

I really dreaded that I would have to start another chapter with an author's note, but luckily I decided this could wait. ^-^

I want to semi-explain my posting policy for why sometimes there's three new chapters… and sometimes only one, which might be a little short. I stop my chapters where I feel they should be stopped according to where they are in the story – which is why the lengths may vary up to a whole page or two, give or take.

Please review, signed or with an e-mail address, preferably, so I can answer any problems or comments. (It would be silly to say "read and review" at this point as you must've obviously read the chapter… =P)

On a side note. Is it just me, or is there not enough cursing in this fic? O.o;;


	8. Chapter 8 - Girls Are Women, Too

The early morning sunlight streamed into the bedroom of one certain weasel girl. The only window in the room was above her bed, so luckily, the light didn't shine directly into her eyes. Sleep was threatening to leave her, but she hung on tight, as she snuggled into her bed, hugging a pillow with both her arms and legs.

Sunday had passed with little incident, in the aftermath of the arrival dinner the night before. Aoshi had spent the day at work, curiously enough. The pig-tailed girl wondered what could possibly have to be done on a Sunday? Not that she had been waiting up or anything, or noted that he didn't come home until late afternoon, and had left somewhere upward of eight in the morning…

Sanosuke, to no surprise, slept in that morning. When he eventually did get up, he took a shower and went 'on the prowl.'

"I'd invite ya, squirt, but you'd cramp my style," he'd flashed her a grin as he grabbed a set of keys that were hanging on the wall by the front door, and skeedaddled. Aoshi had made two extra sets, it seemed, and Misao had discovered them that morning.

She had no real reason to want to 'prowl,' as her oniichan put it. Frankly, she was too nervous about going to her new school.

*-*-*-*

"St. Catherine's preparatory school for girls," she read off of one of the brochures, "Explain to me again, Jiya… what does this have to do with me?" There were pictures for horse-back riding, cooking, and academia. She twisted her lips slightly, thinking that their self-defense and phys. ed. had room for improvement. And it looked… prissy.

"Well, with Sanosuke moving away to Tokyo for next term, I felt that perhaps you should go along as well," Misao was about to get up and protest, but the old man just waved her back to sit down. "I know… it's late in your school career to uproot you like this, but it's the perfect opportunity for you… it's a very good school…"

Misao looked at her grandfather incredulously. There was something he wasn't telling her, it showed in the way he didn't look at her straight in the eye. She rapped her fingers on the table, glaring at him across it. Finally, he relented and sighed, "… Misao-chan, it has been the joy of my life to watch you grow up here… and to be able to raise a child again as my own…"

"… buuuut?" Misao's features had softened, but she wasn't ready to put her guard down completely, just yet. Arms folded on the table, her ocean blue eyes gazed at him evenly.

"… but," he confirmed her prediction, "You're life has been kempo, an silly old man, and a sillier rooster head…"

"Hey hey hey, what's wrong with that?" Her eyebrow rose, as though he was making absolutely no point whatsoever. And to her, he wasn't.

"Misao-chan, if even for just a year… maybe you should learn a little bit about what it means to be a 'lady' –"

"OH no. You're not shovin' me in the kitchen THAT easily!!" Slamming her fist onto the table, she began to form a hundred and one retorts in her mind… but then took a second look at the old man. He looked as though he'd never been any surer of anything in his entire life, and spoke again with his gaze fixed on hers.

"Misao-chan," he stated firmly, "I have been your mother and your father, and more of the latter," He sighed, slightly faltered, "… there's a limit to what one old man can teach his pretty little Misao-chan…"

Her arms dropped to her sides, looking at the old man she loved so dear. He was only trying to give her everything he could, every opportunity… how could she refuse?

*-*-*-*

Misao had been relieved of a little stress when Sano told her he passed the school while he was out, and that it was on the way to where he'd be studying anyway, so he could walk with her. A little of the old, to get her comfortable with the new is how she looked at it.

They had dinner again that night, but Sano seemed to still be put out by the happenings of the night before, and refused to do anything but glare at his elder brother. The elder, unaffected by the fiery aura that the younger was projecting, simply ate in silence, as if neither of the two were there. It seemed, to Misao at least, that the Akabeko was going to cater their meals for the time Sano and Misao were to be there. She guessed it was because Aoshi didn't have time to cook, or something of the like. It boggled her why he insisted on having dinner together each night. It's not like he said anything. Or at least, he didn't say anything much.

So she hardly expected to be rudely awakened by a rooster who sounded like his head had just been cut off.

*-*-*-*

"MAKIMACHI MISAO. I WANT NAMES, AND I WANT THEM NOW!"

Smacking her lips a little, with the less than subtle taste of bacteria that collected overnight on her tongue, Misao groaned at the intrusion. The bathroom door had opened and flooded the room with bright fluorescent lights, and it didn't help that Sano flicked on the ceiling light to worsen matters. Rendered blind by the whole thing, she tried to dive under her covers for some refuge… only to have them rudely ripped off again.

She rubbed her fists into her eyes, and shivered, as her form was suddenly exposed. Wearing a tank top and boxer set, that was littered with stars and moons, she slowly was able to crack her eyelids open to glance at the clock. Her voice was slurred, as most of her parts had yet to awaken, "… lemme sleep… got… an hour still…" It was six in the bloody morning, and she didn't have to be at school until eight-thirty, and him at nine. If she had the brain capacity, she would've been boggled to why he was up so early.

Crossing to her bed in three long strides, which was parallel to the door, he gritted his teeth, and there was the sound of cracking plastic. "Mou… Sano-nii'…"

"DON'T. Don't 'Sano-nii' me!! I want names!" He dragged her up by the front of her tank top, and shoved a white and pink disk into her face. Then it was as though everything clicked together all at once in her mind.

"What are you doing with those?!" Pushing away from him, she tried to snatch whatever it was back, but he had it easily wrapped up in his larger hand, and wouldn't give.

"Makimachi Misao. I will only ask one more time, and you better give me some answers," Both parties were seething, Sano about the birth control pills he'd taken – stumbled upon in her medicine cabinet, and Misao for the invasion of her privacy… and property. "Who was it? Was it that Soujirou punk?! Was THAT why he smiled so damned much?!"

  
Neither of them heard Aoshi make an entrance, perhaps because of the cracking slap Sano had received across his face. The tall boy stumbled to lean against one of the bookcases that stood next to her bed. After regaining his senses, Sano quickly recognized that his brother was in the room. He tossed the pill case to Aoshi. Had Misao not been so angry at the moment, she might've been impressed by the swiftness of the fluid motion, and then by the graceful catch of the receiving party.

"Fine, let's see what Aoshi has to say about all of this," Sano stood at full height now, towering over Misao, who was kneeling on her bed now. He folded his arms across his chest, almost triumphantly. 'If there was any time to pull that father-figure shit, man, it's now.'

"About what?" Aoshi's reflexes were quick, but he himself had taken a moment to absorb what it was he was holding. It looked like a small plastic disk… a clear cover, and a pink back, sort of like a compact mirror or something. Inside was a white tray, which held a circular display of pills. Each pill had the abbreviations of the days of week above them, printed on the white carousel.

" 'About what?' he says. ABOUT THOSE!" Sano was pinting an accusing finger at the object in the palm of Aoshi's hand. "You *know* what those are, don't you?!! I found them –" 

"In MY things!!! What were you doing in my medicine cabinet?!"

"Looking for some toothpaste… but low and behold, I discover that my 'imouto-chan' has been moonlighting on me!!" Sanosuke was too pissed off to see the hurt in Misao's eyes. She was trying to be strong, but her gaze glistened with unshed tears. Sano was now pacing back in forth along the side of the bed, while Misao's arms fell limp at her sides.

'How could he think that I…' Her gaze fell to look at her knees, as her hands fisted at her tousled bed sheets. The blood in her veins was quivering with anger, but it was battling with the sudden acidity that was building in her mouth, mixed with the dull taste of bile. In a few short minutes, she felt lower than a single-celled organism.

It was a high tension atmosphere that was held in silence, save for Sano's huffs and puffs. He couldn't find enough outlets for his anger, and was obviously very close to breaking something, or someone. Again, Aoshi shocked everyone by being the first to speak.

"You've slept with younger than her."

*-*-*-*

Sano stopped in his tracks.

Misao was frozen, as she gazed over at Aoshi, the tears still held back for all this time. The Shinomori heir hadn't failed to see her reaction to Sano's harsh words.

"T-that… THEY… weren't Misao!!" was all the ruffled feathered man could sputter out. His back hunched over, with his fists clenched till the knuckles were white. They were itching to hit something, and hit it hard. His arms flung out at either side of him, as though breaking invisible chains that bound his wrists. "Don't you take her side! Not on this!"

Misao looked back at Sano, and then at his brother. Unconsciously, she drew a pillow in front of her, and hugged it tightly. She knew the beginnings of a challenge when she saw one, whether it was outright declared or not.

"I am not taking sides," Aoshi said simply, tossing the case onto the owner's bed. "I am merely stating fact." He drew in a breath, closing his eyes briefly, his icy gaze hidden beneath his bangs. It looked as though he were decided whether to continue speaking, or waiting to make sure he would be given the chance to. Brushing them aside with a languid gesture of two single digits, "Misao is old enough to take such preparatory measures. Where would you be if 'they' hadn't?"

Aoshi was one to choose his words carefully, mostly so he could say what he meant in as few words possible. It apparently had worked, because Sano looked floored. His elder brother simply left the room after nodding a farewell to the occupants, while Sano stood there gaping at him. The infamous weasel girl was given time to recover, and Sano found himself being propelled back into the bathroom by a sudden barrage of pillows, which climaxed with a loud slamming door in his face. After hearing the lock click into place, he was able to digest into his consciousness the yells of, "GET THE HELL OUT." 


	9. Chapter 9 - Ready As I'll Ever Be

Author's Note: (AN)

This chapter will be far more dramatic if you listen to the song "Avril 14th" by Aphex Twin. ^-^; (Hey, you've trusted me for seven chapters already, c'mon…) If you don't agree with me, feel free to put it in your review. (Hint, hint.)

===

Misao hadn't heard a peep out of Sanosuke for the next hour. Now, she was dreading the walk to school. It was just before seven o'clock. 'I guess I should start getting ready,' she thought mournfully. The light was off in the bathroom now, signaling that it was free. This didn't stop her from hesitating in front of the door, kicking she'd thrown out of her path. Slowly, she unlocked it, and opened the door. Nothing, and no one was waiting for her.

She'd let out a breath she hadn't realized she was holding, as she turned the taps on for the shower. Untying her braid, she had a little some trouble with it, as her hair tended to knot and get frazzled while she slept. Sanosuke used to threaten to cut it all off, but he would always say that she wouldn't be his weasel girl without it. Bowing her head slightly, she noticed that the sink counter was wet. A few drops were splattered on the cool marble… about to blame Sano for this; she noticed that more liquid began to accumulate. And slowly, she lifted her head to face the mirror image of her tear stained cheeks. Wiping her face furiously, almost harshly, she closed the room to her bedroom, and started to undress to hop into the shower.

It hadn't been lost on her that there was a seam loose on one of the straps of the tank she had been wearing. Holding it in front of her, now standing stark naked, she examined it closely. 'Must've happened when Sano…' Shutting her eyes tightly, she remembered the fire in his eyes. She swore she'd never seen Sanosuke that angry in her whole life. Having known him for her whole life, this was a bit of a surprise. Especially over… something like this.

As the near scalding water skimmed over her features, and washed her face of her salty tears, she couldn't help but go over what had happened over and over in her mind. How could Sano think that she was some kind of… harlot, slut, whore…  Thousands of synonyms spun in her mind, as though she'd suddenly been named thesaurus of the year, or something. As Aoshi had said, they were just 'in case'.

She braced herself on the tiled wall, both hands laying flat on her palms, just letting the hot water wash over her features. Looking down at herself, watching as each stream of clear fluid flowed over each muscle, every inch of her… Did he think she was still a child? That she didn't know of the birds and the bees?... Her fingers curled and scratched at the innocent tiles. 'Am I so ugly…?' she internally winced, and shut her eyes. She told herself it was to avoid too much water getting into her eyes. Sanosuke always joked about how she was under-developed… flat-chested… a tomboy… violent… Did he see no means that a man would want to…

The water that skimmed over her lips began to have the faintest undertone of salt. She was crying again, as her knees fell weak beneath her and she curled into a fetal ball on the floor of the shower stall until the water ran cold.

*-*-*-*

There was a soft knocking at Misao's bedroom door. No answer.

Again. No answer.

Aoshi stood there, dressed in black casual slacks and a white dress shirt, with the top buttons undone. The cuffs of the shirt were also undone, and he motioned to rectify that. He had been staring at his hand, as it hovered over her bedroom door.

They'd only been there for three days. He wondered then… if this was what it meant to be a family. To have your heart clench when you saw pain in another's eyes, or when their fists of anger felt like a stabbing betrayal. When watching two people argue wasn't just a 'fight' between a man and a woman, but it was like watching your right hand fight with your left.

'I'm too close,' he thought sullenly. He was too close to this, to them. Even with his own brother, he'd kept his distance. He always held his birth against him, though as a man now, he knew it wasn't fair. And this girl… woman. That disk that had been in his hand also stirred more emotions in him, as well. He saw where Sanosuke was coming from, but he also saw the pain he was causing with where he was going. He had to do something. He just *had* to.

It had come to this. He wasn't taking sides, he had decided to himself. He was just seeing that things were fair. Sano was older, if not only by two years, he should know better. Although, Aoshi honestly never expected him to magically wake up one day and act his age. Then again, he didn't expect Sano to wake up one day and act like a disappointed father. Or brother. … Or jealous lover.

Aoshi shook his head, knocking for a third time. Nothing. Closing his hand around the door knob of what was once his study, he opened the door to find… nothing. Well, a large mess of pillows scattered on the floor, a messy bed, but no girl to match. The pills still lay where he'd thrown them, and other than the pillows, and the missing girl, nothing in the room had been disturbed. There was light streaming out from under the bathroom door, and he moved to that one, to begin the knocking ceremony once more.

"Misao-chan." He said the single statement loudly, hoping it would get over the shower. It worked apparently, as he could hear as the water stopped, and the taps were turned off. A very drippy girl, engulfed in a large fluffy white towel that covered her torso to her knees, stood before him. "It's almost a quarter to eight." The girl simply nodded, the luster that was once held in her indigo orbs seemingly lost, or well, misplaced.

She turned away, and before the door could close back fully, he spoke again, "I'll be walking you today." The door stopped, and opened slightly. The same girl was looking back at him with wide eyes, life flickering in them once again. She nodded numbly, and he back to her, and made a silent exit.

===

AN: Okay the music is no longer necessary from this point, unless you really want to give it a go. ^-^;

===

Misao dried her hair best she could in the little time she had. If she wanted to get any breakfast, she'd have to put aside her thoughts and start getting in gear. Badda-bing-badda-boom, she had zoomed about her room, stumbling here and there, to get her uniform on. She wasn't unaccustomed to being rushed in the mornings before school, often rolling out of bed at the very last possible minute.

Then she was standing in front of the door. Her backpack was in one hand, and the door knob in the other. Her hair was in it's customary braid, and just a bit damp, but she couldn't really feel it through the school blazer, and the sweater vest… *and* the white collared dress shirt, complete with tie. At least she didn't have to worry about being warm on topside. Though, she wore dark stockings that matched the black sweater vest, for fear of how cold it might be in that skirt. 

'This CAN'T be only three inches above the knee…' She remembered reading the school guidelines, and the rules said three inches. Distinctly remembering having Kaoru help her get her measurements and mail them off to the school, she wondered how they could possibly get it wrong. 'Well not much I can do about it today, I guess.' She hoped during the winter months that maybe, just maybe, St. Catharine's might allow dress pants. Then again, this wasn't hell, and the forecast wasn't snow… although the first point could probably be argued.

*-*-*-*

Aoshi sat at his seat at the head of the table, with an abandoned cup of tea, and was shrouded behind a newspaper. Hearing Misao's door open and close, he heard her graceful footfalls as she sat at her regular seat at the table, to take the seat to his right. There was a place setting ready, with toast on the side and condiments on a little sterling silver carousel in front of it. For her breakfast on the first day of school it looked like she was having eggs, sunny-side up, with mini-flapjacks. She blinked at her plate.

"How did you –" This man was just full of surprises, though he had the personality of a steel two-by-four. He defended her, more than once… Offered to go in place of a parent… Said he walk her to school with her… and now this. Shinomori Aoshi: Tokyo's Man of Mystery.

"Jiya told me what you liked for breakfast on school days before you came," The newspaper made some rustling noises as he turned the page. The page he was looking at was briefly folded down, as he glanced at his watch. "Hope you can eat it in fifteen minutes."

Misao glanced at the clock on the wall by the fridge. Only eight o'clock? Even she was impressed. She didn't really even have to rush eating, either. Maybe today wasn't going to be too bad after all, though it got off to a rocky start. Correction: Hellish. Now if she could only manage not to get in trouble once she actually got to school.

'I've got my work cut out for me, don't I? Thanks a lot, Jiya.' The two people at the table thought simultaneously without realizing it. But there had to have been some recognition of the fact because they glanced at one another at the very same moment. When time unfroze, Misao finished up her breakfast, and after rinsing her wares, put them in the dishwasher.

"Ready to go?"

"As ready as I'll ever be."


	10. Chapter 10 - First Day

Misao was debating whether the walk to school was more or less comfortable with Aoshi there instead of Sano. At least there would be yelling or *some* noise or something… this was just painful silence between them. She didn't really pay attention to anyone or thing else, only hearing the jingling coming from her backpack – probably her new set of keys or her pencil case – matching the melody of the change in the coin purse in the pocket inside her blazer. Parts of the city were already alive and buzzing. But, Aoshi walked along side her with his hands in his pockets finding no need for words. He had draped a long black trench coat over himself to fend off the cold, but besides that, nothing of his attire changed.

'I guess being the son of the boss has its perks,' Misao thought to herself, glancing over at Aoshi occasionally. Although, she tried not to look, and the more she tried, the more she did.

"Is there something on my face?" Misao sputtered and tripped over her own feet at the sound of his voice. He didn't have to look at her to know she was looking at him. He'd never let her know he was amused by the sudden change in her demeanor. It was as though nothing had happened. This morning was far from forgotten, but at least he found some way to get her to snap back to her senses, if just temporarily.

"Ii-iie Aoshi-sama," She blushed softly, tucking her hands around the straps of her backpack, as her gaze fell to the floor. Her physical balance was back, but there was a familiar skip in her heartbeat when she was thrown off-guard. It took a while – okay, a couple of seconds – before she could look back up at him. His posture, his countenance, nothing had changed. Yet, something in the tone… or maybe in the way he moved his feet when he turned the corner. Something told her that he was… trying to cheer her up.

Again, she hadn't been paying attention to where she was going, and was taken off-guard by the tall man when he gently took her arm and tugged her closer to his side. By now, her face was boiling from a heat coming from within her, and it showed. Blinking twice, she looked ahead, and then at him, and to where she had been walking to. She'd nearly run into a street post.

"Pay attention next time," As carefully as he took her arm, he let it go. She nearly pouted, since apparently he had yet found the need or care to actually look at her. Her head popped up when she heard a loud bell tolling, from a clock tower that was insight further up ahead. They were here.

Here was St. Catherine's. It looked very different from Misao's old public school back in Kyoto, it kind of looked like the British Embassy or something. Even in her uniform, she felt under dressed. There was a large brick wall that framed the entrance gates to the school, and a wide path leading up to the tall front doors to the main building of the campus. The path had large trees, which were tickled auburn and rust, making for quite the beautiful autumn scene. Girls were clamoring to get through the doors now, and Misao quickly figured the bell was to signify the beginning of classes. She started to run ahead to the school, but then stopped short.

"Forget something?" Aoshi inquired curiously, staring at the paused back of the young woman he'd accompanied. His head was slightly inclined, as though trying to peek around her to read the expression on her face. Then he blinked, and his eyes flickered as the girl nearly bounced back to him, and threw her slender arms around his neck in a quick, yet impassioned hug.

"Arigato gozaimasu, Aoshi-sama," and then as quickly as she'd pounced, the weasel began to scamper back towards the school.

*-*-*-*

'Curious girl,' he thought as he felt her eyes roam over his features for the umpteenth time. They'd hadn't gotten a block away from the apartment building yet, and it was as though they had walked for miles in the desert… like she'd never seen a man before in her entire life. 'What could possibly be so fascinating?' He nearly shook his head. Nearly.

"Is there something on my face?" he asked, his gaze was hiding behind those long bangs of his. There was hidden mirth concealed behind those cobalt eyes. Of course, he'd never let her see it. She seemed like she was back to normal. Just regular ol' Misao.

Had he known her so long that he would be able to discern who she was normally and not? Not even three days yet, and his feelings were put in a torrent over seeing that distressed side of her this morning. 'Woman.' A single word that floated in his mind and it was commonly associated with pain. Women in his life either left, or were left, and marked nothing. Including his own mother. Was this pretty little thing beside him a woman? All he had seen up until that morning was a girl, with a very short fuse, with a very long tail – er, braid. Energetic, and violent… although the violence could be excused considering, well, it was Sano.

That isn't what he saw this morning. He hadn't seen a girl who dropped her ice cream cone, and mourned its loss. Or a child that lost its lollipop in the sandbox. On that bed, he saw the vision of a broken woman, riddled with the pain of hurt. A kind of a hurt shown on her face like none that could ever be inflicted by a sword or fist. The needling that came from the core of one's center and forced its way to the surface until it pierced every nerve and conduit, and not a single one could run or hide from it. The kind of pain…

That he had seen in his mother's face so many times before. His logic took over, to prevent any emotions of time long past from surfacing. He could not deny that his mother was a woman, regardless of what *kind* of woman she was, and because this was true… Then what he saw today was an example of a woman. Logically concluding that Misao, or some part of her, had to be a woman.

Then of course, the pills. Of course he knew what they were… it had just taken a couple of seconds for it to digest into his system. She was taking birth control pills. A medication that was taken in order to prevent having children as a result of sexual intercourse. The facts laid out in his mind like her was a walking medical journal. Women take these things. So why would this cause him to feel anything?

He felt no reason to search for the answer at that particular moment in time.

As he had to prevent Misao from giving herself a concussion on an innocent street post. "Pay attention next time," he stated. Her arm was so delicate, and yet he'd seen it pack a wallop. Perhaps this is where the speed of her punches lied? No, he knew she practiced the art, and hence forth, some of her speed must be attributed to skill. His hand easily wrapped around the whole of it, and he was suddenly awed by her petite form. He was letting go of her arm as a flash of a girl, sopping wet, in nothing more than a towel came to mind…

The train of thought had screeched to a halt by the sounding of a bell's toll. Bringing his attention to the autumn picture that framed the school's main building, he watched as girls, in Misao's uniform, took to the hive mentality and got their way into school. He felt more than saw Misao run up ahead, as there was now a void by his side that he'd never noticed before. Then she stopped.

"Forget something?" his tone remained even, despite the thoughts that were clouding his perceptions. As a sudden warmth of a body pressed against his radiated through him, briefly shattering the icy walls of his person, the only thing he saw was this woman's dazzling smile. When the warmth retreated, his walls built their way back up again as quickly as they had fallen. His hands never came out of his pockets, and never moved to hold Misao when she hugged him and whispered her thanks into his ear. For now, for this morning… Then she was gone.

For the moment. He would see her again later this evening; he somehow needed to remind himself. 'Too close,' he scolded himself once more. As he walked back to his apartment, and entered his penthouse, he already knew what was waiting for him.

"Sanosuke."

*-*-*-*

"Now, Aoshi-kun, I'll be here to pick you up right after school, I promise," the little boy, with spiky black hair, looked up at his mother with pleading eyes. He wanted to stay at home with her, she knew, but she kissed him on the forehead. "Try to make some friends okay?"

"Be brave, lil' man," his father was there, and patted his head. His parents made him get a haircut before his first day of school, and he was not pleased about this at all. But his father only smiled and said that it would grow back before Aoshi could even miss it.

The little boy gazed up at his parents, who stood together, his father's arm around his mother's shoulders. Their faces beamed with pride, and his mother looked like she was about to cry. Aoshi put up a stiff upper lip, and tugged at his mother's dress. 

" 'kaachan. I'll see you soon," he smiled softly for his mother. She nodded happily, looking up at her husband with unspoken words of pride at her son's motion to ease her worries. "I'll see you later 'touchan."

Before he walked into the door of his new classroom, which was bursting with noises of children's laughter and giggles, he peeked one last time at his parents. They were there waiting, and weren't going to leave until he was inside safely. Aoshi never forgot that warm feeling in his heart, and how safe he felt that day. When he could look up at this man… and this woman… and beam with pride when he called them mother and father.

He'd always remember, for it was the last time he would ever feel that way. About them. About life… About love.


	11. Chapter 11 - Growing Up is Hard to Watch

Sanosuke cursed his brother to the high heavens. How *dare* he put a timer on the window blinds?! As soon as the sun had begun to rise, the shades had opened, and startled poor Sano right of bed. The tall boy knocked his forehead on his night table as he rolled off the side of his bed, in a bed-sheet maki. ('Maki' is the sushi that's wrapped up in a roll of seaweed.) When his senses returned, he noticed the foul taste in his mouth, and began to blindly worm his way over to the bathroom, gradually freeing himself from his comforter and sheets.

The bathroom light was worse than the sun… when he thought his eyes had just recovered from the shock, and then a fluorescent beam sent him cowering into the door. "Fucking hell…" he muttered to himself, which then reminded of the taste in his mouth. And to worsen matters, he looked like a worse morning-person than he felt like.

Roughly, his large hands, turned on the taps, wincing when it ran cold… splashing the water back and forth with his fingers, in some futile attempt to help it heat up faster. He took a deep breath and then splashed himself in the face, dampening his hair, to reduce the appearance of shards of brown sticking out of place. Regaining his senses, for better or worse, he experimented with how his hair would look slicked down. Sanosuke had to use both hands to hold his hair back, and it sprung back into action, catapulting droplets of water onto the bathroom mirror. Snatching up a bottle of mouthwash, almost perturbed at his failed attempt to look suave, he knocked back a mouthful and gargled obnoxiously loud. At least he had some merit in his aim, when it came to spitting at least.

It's a pity no one had a camera, for he looked pretty funny awkwardly bent over the sink flushing his mouth with water, to calm down the stinging sensation that tickled his taste buds with minty freshness. Scuffling about in his medicine cabinet, he found the remains of what was once a rolled up tube of toothpaste. He had gallons of cologne, and yet not even a smidge of toothpaste. "Dammit all…" her grumbled, fishing into Misao's medicine cabinet, as if to find a new tube by feel alone.

His foot twitched when something clattered to the ground by it. Time slowed down by the millisecond, as Sano stooped down to retrieve it, hoping to put everything back JUST how he'd found it. (And had he actually been watching what he was doing, he might've been successful.)

Then his ass hit the floor, and his back was to the wall. "Son of a…" He wasn't much for internal monologue this early in the morning. His knees were bent, supporting his elbow, as his hand cupped his forehead. His other hand was holding a small plastic disc that was the center of the universe in his palm.

'Why the hell would she have…?' He knew what they were. He'd been around. Hell, so had some of the girls he'd been with. Although, two and two never came together, that he had been with girls, and that Misao was indeed, in fact, without question, a girl. Equaling the fact that, in theory, he could have as easily could have been with Misao.

"WHOA," Sano's eyes bugged out of his skull, as his hand released his skull and gripped onto his turning stomach. That was the only intelligible word he could formulate at that given point in time. "Ohnononononononono…" The man was now fully awake, with all his wits, what he had of them anyway, about him.

He could've easily have crushed the thing in his hand, but no. He had too many questions. Too many pictures were now floating in his head. Sano failed to drown them out by shutting his eyes to the world, and banging the back of his head against the wall. He was between a rock and a hard place… well, the toilet and the shower. His entire body shook as his head tossed from one side to the other, as he couldn't break free of the images of Misao… Every woman he'd ever laid a hand on now had her face.

He wanted to scream. He wanted to cry. He wanted…

… to kill someone.

*-*-*-*

"What do you mean you can't go another round?" Sweat dripped down the side of his rugged features, as he lazily swiped the back of his hand over his forehead.

"I mean I can't, not now anyway," Misao was already getting her things together and making an exit.

"It's only… the middle of the afternoon, where the hell do you have to go?!" Sanosuke, who'd been lying on his back, rolled over on his side, propping himself up on one arm. He squeezed his cheek in his hand, to try and hide the fact he was pouting at her back while she opened the door to leave the dojo.

"I told you, I can't spar anymore, I have to get ready—"

"What the hell is more important than me?!" Sano was up at his feet, with his hand flat against his chest, looking riddled with hurt. His deep brown eyes were dancing with laughter, if not to hide the fact that part of him really was feeling some dejection. The corner of his lips quirked, as he rested a hand on his hip, "Got a hot date or something, weasel girl?"

Misao made gagging noises, and motioned to stick her finger down her throat when Sano began making suggestive movements with his hips. He had this way of having a hand behind his head, while one braced at something imaginary in front of him… the void of where a woman would be, as he bucked his hips. She cupped her hands over her ears, to try and drown out his loud groans, and almost painful moans. Though, he suddenly stopped, and she blinked curiously, looking up to suddenly find him not but a foot away from her.

"You're blushing," he stated flatly, taking her chin between his thumb and forefinger, forcing her to look up at him. She was suddenly bashful, and her eyes try to dodge his, but couldn't. "Well?"

"Well what?!" she sputtered, trying to get her chin back to its rightful owner. Sano held her firmly, with just those two fingers, and his gaze was unwavering.

"Well, what's his name, Baka-chan," it was only then he released her and knocked on the top of her head. It hadn't been a question, and she could sense, even through the playfulness he'd ended it with. He was smiling in his usual goofy way, but she couldn't see the way his fist was clenched behind the sliding door. They stood on either side of it, one on the outs, one on the in. But for a brief moment, as the blossoms rustled in the trees from a gentle spring breeze, they were miles apart. Each locked in their respective thoughts. She looked almost ashamed, as though she had been hiding something from him… 'For a while. They've been together a while.' Sano bit his tongue, and waited.

"Seta. Soujirou Seta—" She was back to her old self when she was suddenly the object of Sano's unsaid joke. He was back on the floor, laughing his chicken-head off. "WHAT THE HELL'S SO FUNNY?!" It took a while for Sano to recover himself, as he sat up, bracing himself against the door frame.

"You mean that 'genki genki' jackass?!"  He flashed his hands on either side of his head, with a plastered 'chick' smile on his face, and then went about trying to beat the laughter out of him by smacking his forehead.

"So he *likes* to smile! What's the matter with that?!" She whacked him on the top of his head, before he could react; too busy trying to get his laughing under control. He cleared his throat, swallowing down his laughter – with a lot of effort.

"Well… it's just that…" Misao tapped her foot, with her hands at her hips waiting. "We never really believed he was… well… OW!" Finding his hair captive to a weasel paw he blurted, "We didn't think he was into girls!! But I guess with a girl like you, it works –" He interrupted himself with his own laughter, falling back onto his behind once again. He could only catch the tail end of a braid flicker away out of the corner of his eye as she marched off, not after forcefully shutting them with her fist.

When Sano recovered, he also noted his hand had fallen victim to being crushed by the door. Nothing that wouldn't heal, mind you, but he'd obviously struck a chord. Looking at the tracks in the dirt where Misao had left him there, alone, he could only see through the sliver that was left behind when the door had recoiled on his hand. His eyes glazed as he lowered his head to shade them with his sweat-weighed bangs, 'So did she.'

He didn't leave the dojo for quite a while after. Sano just lay back and listened to the sound of the breeze, the rustling blossoms… and the gleeful voice of his weasel girl as she eagerly greeted another man.

*-*-*-*

It was at that moment that Sanosuke's mental cognition decided to function. A new equation came to like, and he was seething which rage. Anger management would be for another day because today he needed to hurt something. Someone.

"… Seta…" He growled, clutching Misao's birth control pills, as he was suddenly found himself throwing open her bedroom door.

And so began the morning, where everything changed. 

*-*-*-*

"Sanosuke." 

That was all the recognition he gave his younger brother, who had been waiting in the doorway for him. He tried to brush past him, but saw Sano's hand fly out to attack him, and he simply caught the fist, holding it those few inches from his face. He watched his brother's features, as he took long haggard breaths, and could feel his anger pulse in that raging fist.

"How could you do it?..." Sano's voice hadn't meant to come out so… helpless. It sounded like he did when he was a boy, an unsure whisper to an older brother who had all the answers. Aoshi's silence only proved to enrage him further, "WELL?!"

Aoshi braced himself, when Sano's hand pulled back, anticipating another attack that never came. He stared at his brother's back, honestly not knowing what to tell him. The only reason he had was the pain he saw in that… that woman's eyes that morning. His cobalt eyes followed his movements, as Sano snatched up a jacket off the dining room table and stalked out of the apartment, nearly breaking the door's hinges when he slammed it. He winced internally, as though a blow had just connected. He looked at his reflection from afar in the windows of his luxuriously empty apartment.

'Traitor.' He thought to the only person who could hear. Then continued with his day as it would normally commence, though nothing was the same, but he could only find solace in the fact there was nothing he could do at the moment.

*-*-*-*

"So 'niichan?" The spiky-headed boy queried, as he chewed on a piece of grass, laying next to his older brother in the backyard, staring at the night sky.

"Aa."

"When I see you again, will you be a man?" Those youthful brown eyes peeked over at Aoshi, munchin' on the blade of grass almost nervously. He wouldn't see his oniichan for a long time after he goes away to school.

"… Aa."

"Will I be a man, too?" He blinked when he thought he saw Aoshi glance at him, but it was so quick, he couldn't be sure.

"Aa."  Then the night was silent once again.

*-*-*-*

It was almost noon, the time when Misao will be released from… this place. She didn't know how to conceive it just yet. So it had everything in the whole entire world a girl would want in a school… save the guys, of course. St. Catharine's had a beautiful campus, and each student seemed to have grace and poise. Misao couldn't feel any more out of place. She could mostly only stutter a "Maybe," every so often, with the winning smile she'd been known to have. When she was asked if she thought she'd like it here… whether she'd be going back to Kyoto during the holidays… if she wanted to join clubs…

She sat in one of the classrooms, straight-backed, legs crossed. "Modesty is the best policy," she quoted a professor. And here, stupid her, she thought it was "honesty." This is why she didn't have many friends that were girls. She couldn't trust them as far as she could… well, no, she could probably throw them pretty far, couldn't she? Misao had to suppress her grin at the notion. 'Stay out of trouble, Misao…'

Only a couple more minutes, and she'd be free to go… from one hell to another. She'd almost been distracted enough to forget what happened that morning. If she could get away with smacking herself without causing too much of a commotion, she probably would have. The end of classes' bell rang, and she winced, silently deciding she'll take as long as possible to get home.

That is. If she could remember how she got there. Misao grimaced, and sank into her chair, hoping to disappear.


	12. Chapter 12 - Please Do Not Disturb

Sanosuke hadn't shown up for dinner. He'd been gone the whole day since that confrontation with his brother, and they'd heard nothing from him. 'Note to self: Arrange for cell phones.' With his absence, Sano unknowingly put Aoshi in quite a bind: eating alone with Misao, the woman.

*-*-*-*

Sanosuke hadn't shown up for dinner. She hadn't seen him since the incident that morning. It made her homecoming quite awkward, she'd even threatened to knock on his door. When Misao got no answer, she saw that he was no where in sight, but that there were the remnants of what was once a glass embedded in the wall, with shards glistening in the carpet. Sighing to herself, figuring that the mess was partially her fault, she thought it wouldn't hurt if she were the one to clean it up. The venture left three of her fingertips in band-aids.

Aoshi had said nothing, nor did he have to. She didn't know what she wanted him to say anyway, although, she wasn't a big fan of silence.

"Aoshi-sama?" He stopped what he was doing, resting his utensils on the sides of his plate. Straightening up his posture, he gazed at her full on. The incline of his head pointed out that some time had passed, and she remembered how to talk, "… so… I guess you're going to walk me to school again tomorrow?"

"Aa," he continued with his meal mechanically. 'Same bat time, same bat channel.' He saw her nod in the corner of his eye, noting she had hardly touched her food. Taking a deep breath, "So how was your day at school?" He tried to pull it off in his normal monotone, hoping it won't sound half as trite. By the manner in which Misao sulked into her chair, he was taking this as not a very good sign. "It looked like a very nice campus." No, he was not the conversationalist.

"Hai, it is," and apparently, tonight, neither was she. Recalling something known as "food," and the utensil known as a "fork," she decided to take these two memories and put them to good use. 'Where is that baka…'

*-*-*-*

"BAKA TORI ATAMA!" An twelve-year-old Misao-chan screeched as she skidded into her room and slammed the door, and locked it with a flick of her wrist. She stumbled over to her bed, and dove her head under the pillow. Her small hands pushed on the sides of the soft cushion, as if to muffle out the whole world.

"Dammit, Misao, open this door before I break it down!" Sano's heavy fist came pounding on her bedroom door. Well, it was heavy for a fifteen-year old. Physically, he had matured rather quickly, already rather tall, and testosteronal. The young boy pulled up his sleeves, and took a couple steps back… With a feral growl he put all his force behind his right side as he used it as a battering ram. "I TOLD you I was sorry so fucking open this door…!!"

"NO! YOU PROMISED!" Her voice echoed in her room and right into the hallway, as she hugged her pillow to her. Sitting in the middle of her bed, she glared daggers at the door, gripping to her pillow like it was life itself. Mumbling, as her voice began to quiver, talking more to herself than to the outraged boy at the other side of the door, "… y-you promised…"

His arm smarted, so he tried to reason with her. "Look, Misao, next year – no, next time we get have a break we can –" Why couldn't she understand? ... All his friends were going, so he *had* to go. It was just a ski trip.

"NO!" A very indignant scream came from through the door. Sano pushed up his sleeves once more, with his eyes burning bright.

"DAMMIT FINE!" Then the door came crashing down, hinges, Sano, and all.

*-*-*-*

A light came into his room suddenly, just the soft glow of a light down the hall… he squinted, shading his eyes with his freshly donned cast. Maybe if he knew before hand that human beings weren't built to be battering rams, he could've avoided having to wear it at all. "Weasel? What the hell are you doing here?"

The small girl leaned up against the door frame, a delicate silhouette. She was in her night clothes, and hugging her teddy bear. "Sano-nii'…" her voice cracked, she was crying. "… gomen nasai…" Sano smacked his forehead with his un-casted hand, dragging up the covers with the fingertips of the other. The girl started to come to him, and hesitated.

"Oh good kami, get your ass in here so I can get what lil' sleep I can, for bloody's sake," He covered his eyes, swiping his face with his hand with an over exaggerated groan. Misao-chan started up again, and once she was within arms reach, Sano got fed up with this stop-and-go fiasco and yanked her into bed. Since he obviously couldn't go on the ski trip with fractures in his arm, and a twisted ankle, Jiya opted that he might stay with them, as was originally intended for his vacation.

The smaller form fit well against Sano's larger one, curled up with her teddy into his chest. She started sniffling again, "… gomen ne, you really wanted to go…"

"Look. If I have to change out of wet pajamas, there's going to be hell to pay. So stop it, right now," his voice was stern, but she knew better. He smiled in the dim light down at the pig-tailed girl that had invaded his premises. When she stopped shaking with sobs, and was only sniffling, he gently stroked her back, "There. That's more like it. Now go to sleep for crying out loud."

Misao-chan stifled a giggle into her teddy bear, when Sano groaned and cursed. She peeked up at him, to see him gazing back at her.

"Shh. I'm not going anywhere, go to sleep." She nodded into his chest, and slowly drifted off to sleep. The elder boy did as well, so neither noticed when a smiling old man closed the bedroom door.

*-*-*-*

That night, Misao had slept lightly, telling herself it wasn't because she was waiting up for Sanosuke. Though when the magic stroke of midnight tolled, she heard the jingling of keys, and clumsy stumbling across the floor. Dragging herself out of bed, rather than meet him outside, she thought an 'accidental' meeting in their communal bathroom would be easier to deal with.

Still half asleep, she sat on the toilet, did her thing… then looked over herself in the mirror. Grabbing some dental floss, she went about some dental hygiene. She hardly ever remembered to floss, so now's a good a time as any. Misao froze, however, with a mint string dangling from between her teeth. She inched every closer to the room to Sano's bedroom, without realizing it.

'Masaka…' the sounds of the toilet flushing were subsiding, and she distinctly heard two voices. One of which was not male. She yanked the floss from her teeth, almost wincing as she did. Before she realized, she was sinking to her knees, with her hands against his door, listening, and hoping it wasn't true.

No, she wasn't hearing the slurred utterances of "Shh" or "Is anybody else home?"… Could she possibly smell the alcohol from where she was? The stabbing feeling in the back of her chest wished that drunks were better at whispering.

*-*-*-*

"Nah dun worry 'bout it…" Sanosuke was thoroughly soused, and so was his lady friend. He had just barely made it into his bedroom, and shut the door. Holding himself up against the wall, he was frantically trying to catch his breath. For the past twenty minutes, give or take, on and off, his mouth was occupied by one tongue more than usual. A cute lil' lonely brunette had 'followed him home' from school that day, and was apparently quite fond of taking to the bottle… almost as much as he was. Especially today.

"Good…" Her lips collided with his, drowning out her voice and his throaty groan. Did she have a name? Pfft, didn't matter anyway. The tingling sensation in his loins was enough to numb the day's events, and intensified as the woman fumbled with his belt, dragging his pants out of her way. From the moment he'd got her to the building, he'd gone through all the usual motions. Having wined, and dined, he was going to get laid. His mind was up in the clouds, indulging in a lifeless void, while his body – back on earth – was busy with getting head.

*-*-*-*

Misao's eyes shut tightly; she didn't know why she couldn't move. She didn't want to hear this. The moans were bad enough, but then the zipper. She'd heard enough of Sanosuke's exploits to know exactly what was going on, and right under her own nose. Under the same roof. Her hands fisted, threatening to pound down the door, like he had that one night when they were young… Just to reach him. Like he had tried to reach her.

She felt like she was acting like a spoilt little child. Wishing his days belonged to her and her alone, although, all the while knowing they didn't. It was always about her.

But apparently this woman… whoever she was… knew more than she. Obviously, since she was putting his pleasure in front of hers. The way she gasped for air, and came down again, Misao could see, almost smell it… through her alcohol-caked nasal passages, and the tears crushed between her eyes and their lids.

*-*-*-*

"Fuck…" he gasped, as he dragged her head away. It was like he'd done this so many times, he could function on auto-pilot. Self-preservative auto-pilot. Fumbling in his pocket, and then fishing into his wallet, he handled a small foil package. He tossed his wallet under the bed, far away enough that her shorter arms wouldn't be able to reach under and grasp it. This man wasn't going to make the same mistake twice.

The woman seemed to mewl and purr as she snatched the condom from him, as if more eager to cap it onto him than he was. It seemed that the contraceptive clicked a couple of buttons in his brain, though rather than taking the memories all back into account, he just remembered the rage. Lucky for him, she liked it rough.

*-*-*-*

Misao threw herself from the door when it began to shake. Her face contorted as the moans reverberated through the door, and then she knew they were there. Right on the other side of that thin panel of wood, Sano was… with…

Her hand flew over her mouth; suddenly feeling like her stomach would try to escape through it. Misao probably would have vomited to, but part of her didn't want to reveal that she was there. That she could hear. And see. And smell… Tears spilled from her eyes as she crawled under the sink, hugging her knees to her, trapping her head in between. Slowly, she rocked back and forth, retreating into herself, trying to think of the noxious fumes finding their way through the cracks of the door.

*-*-*-*

Round one was over. Her legs limply circled his hips, while they both panted in vain to fill their lungs with air. Sano had been holding both of their weights, bracing himself against the door as he had thrust into her mercilessly. He let his forehead sink to rest on the door's face, resting on one arm. Pulling her chin up with his free hand, he inspected her. Passed out, go figure. Brain having yet to function quite yet, he maneuvered to comfortably detach himself from his latest appendage. He rolled under her, turning them both around… allowing himself a moment, to rest his side, as well as hers, against the door. Then sobriety hit him like a ton of bricks, much like his hang over would tomorrow. He could hear her.

Crying.

"… Misao…"


	13. Chapter 13 - The Morning After

Aoshi was awake at his usual absurd hour of the morning, having had the habit of using the gym a couple of floors below every morning. What he didn't expect to find at five o'clock in the morning, to greet him at the elevator doors of the penthouse, was a very disentangled woman. She could nothing but blush beat red, and struggle to get her high heel on her foot, obviously in a huge rush to retreat. They brushed past one another as one exited the elevator, and one entered. The tall man took in the vision in full, as only his eyes could at that ungodly hour of the morning.

Smeared lipstick. Tousled hair. Lingering smells of… sweat, musk, alcohol, and other bodily fluids he didn't quite want to imagine at the moment. If he honestly found himself caring, he'd point out that she looked like hell. It didn't help matters, that even in this state, she was ogling his half-naked body. He stood there, oddly enough to the woman's surprise, to confirm that she was taking her leave. Her fascination dissolved into fear, as his glare turned murderous, her finger pushing at the elevator buttons frantically to get the doors to close.

'Sanosuke.' The man solemnly shook his head, patting his face with the towel slung over his bare shoulders. He shut the door behind him, and rested his back against it, breathing slowly to calm himself down. Aoshi's gaze fell to his black exercise pants, with buttons lined along the sides. 'What the hell did you get me into now?'

*-*-*-*

Misao was still curled on the bathroom floor when those cobalt eyes had settled in the general direction of her bedroom door. She jerked awake with a shiver. Her hands clutched the large dry towel to her scantily clad form… Wait. Towel?

She hit her head under the sink when she tried to bolt up to stand. The girl's voice sounded foreign to herself as curses spilled forth in a rather indignant manner. Her head rested back on the cold tiles, which was strangely consoling now. There was a pounding inside of her skull from the hit, and from other things. Thinking too hard, mostly. There wasn't a rest of the world on that floor. She was just numbly sprawled over it, trying to figure out what the hell the last twenty-four hours meant and why it had been such a surprise.

*-*-*-*

When she'd arrived to high school, the stories of her 'niisan's exploits were borderline infamous. He was a senior then, and every girl, guy, faculty member… hell, the rocks on the side of the gym knew who he was. (Lower and upper high school are separate faculties in Japanese education. Each is a three-year period, so when Misao would be entering, Sanosuke would have been a senior… as they are two years apart in age.)

Half of the girls in school hated him. The other half couldn't get enough. Misao didn't understand it in the least. She laughed at both teams. It was her big brother for crying out loud, he was a chicken head. What redeeming qualities could he possibly have?

Yeah, okay so he was kinda cute. You know, if you're into big, tall, and handsome. And he was an athlete, and martial artist… A man with grace, speed, and – well, okay, not wit. Grace was kind of lacking, too, for that matter. But, that knucklehead was pretty strong though. It was almost a curse to go to the same school, because Sanosuke couldn't keep his big trap shut. Everybody clamored around her as soon as she walked into the doors to try and get to Sano through her. Of course, it didn't take long for them to figure out she could break them in half if the moment suited her.

*-*-*-*

Misao also didn't know, Sano would've broken them in half if they dared to hurt her. He was more excited about Misao and him going to the same school than Misao was to get in. Finally he'd be able to keep those wily guys away from her. Every morning was a daily ritual of busting some poor unsuspecting jerk's skull, just to make sure the school could remember who was boss. He knew exactly which guy was trouble, and which weren't – mostly because 'trouble' (and its users) commonly followed him around. He made damn sure everybody knew that Misao was his imouto-chan, and if that didn't get them, he'd beat it into them.

The girls weren't spared either. Jo-chan (Sano's petname for Kaoru) was cool, but that's 'cause she took kendo, and wasn't using Misao to get to him. Then she'd have to be taken out. He was completely brutal to girls who used Misao to get to him, breaking them in and through and backwards. Not physically, no way. He wouldn't lift a finger against a girl like that, but there were so many more delicious ways to break a girl.

Unknowingly, Misao had started the one-man mafia of her high school by just showing up.

It was that one that got away. Soujirou. Sano saw no threat in the pansy. Okay, so he could hold a sword, but the guys thought he was good with a sword, since they thought he played with 'swords' in his spare time. Generally, Soujirou Seta just smiled his way through life, and said very little. When he did speak, he sort of sounded like a girl. Sano had no clue in hell that Misao would fall for that squirt. And damn, that boy could run.

*-*-*-*

Taking the stairs, two at time, Aoshi arrived in his sanctum before he could allow himself any more time to dwell on what he had just encountered. 'Another one,' he silently groaned as he turned on the taps to his sink. Looking at himself in the mirror, he practiced his personable faces. After all, he had to be a parent today.

He had offered, not because of desire to, but simply out of mere practicality. If Sano were to go in his place, Misao would likely get punted out of there just to keep him away from the girls. Where'd he find this one? For crying out loud…

Aoshi roughly washed his hands, recalling the past visits Sanosuke paid him in Tokyo. Every time they walked through the door, it was something. Girls seemed to flock into their line of fire wherever they went, much to Aoshi's annoyance. Just these little kids, they would line up in their high-pitched way since they thought that a bra meant womanhood. He knew that was the only reason Sano was here, but on the second bloody night?!

He hadn't asked for this. He didn't want to be the parent. The father. Hell, he barely knew his own. He wasn't a big fan of priests either, so he had neither images to draw from. Drawing his bangs back from his face, he bent over awkwardly and flooded his forehead with cool rushing water. He didn't get migraines either.

*-*-*-*

Usually, Sano loved cheerleaders. But when three dozen were smacking their batons around in his skull, they weren't welcome. She thought she'd left stealthily, but even in his state, he still had an eye open in the back of his head for her. His back had been to her when she crawled out of bed, thinking she could somehow quietly stumble around the room with a hangover the size of Mount Fuji. 'Dumb bitch.'

He could read the note now, "Gimme a call 'kay!?" when he had no number. Or, "Thanks for last night!" Or some idiotic one-liner that he'd given girls a thousand times before. The breath he'd been holding was set free when he heard the bedroom door close. Peeling his bed sheets off of him, they'd stuck on through the sweat of rounds three and four; he rolled his legs off the edge of the bed. Trying to focus what was left of his eyesight on a little white box on the wall, what were once the timer controls of his window shade – this was one of the many victims of his tantrum of the previous morning.

Morning? The bright red neon digits on his alarm clock shown, "4:45 AM." Great, just great. He looked at his dangling parts, and then up at the ceiling. Painkillers first, or take a piss. Painkillers… piss… piss… painkillers…

The binary function of his brain was halted when he reached the bathroom door. He was supposed to remember something about this door. Oh right. Knob has to turn first. Gotcha. So that was done… he decided since he was already set up to take nature's call, he strode over to the hover over the toilet, using every ounce of skill in his being to aim straight. It could've been his imagination, but it didn't look like it was working.

'Ew, fuuuck…' He hated when he forgot to take the condom off. They went through three? Four, some number like that. He couldn't remember how many rounds they'd knocked around, but the caked fluids on his member were not a welcome sight first thing in the morning. There was the echo of latex peeling off of skin, as he off-handedly chucked the obstruction into the trashcan by the sink.

With a little shake, the waters began flowing. There was one sigh, and then two. Two??... Sano lost his aim for a moment, and regained it quickly. 'Houston. We have a problem.' He wasn't alone. He glanced over his shoulder, really hoping it was his bedroom door he'd heard, and not the bathroom door.

Right. This was what he was supposed to remember. How the hell did he forget… "Misao." His conscience was going to make him pay for that night, if she didn't. Putting his mind back on the task at hand, he let the last drops drizzle out of his exhausted cock, turning around to see exactly how much shit he was in.

Right. 'I'm naked.' It was a good thing Sanosuke never tried to defend himself in court.

*-*-*-*

'Towel…' Misao took it up in her hand again, and looked at it as if she'd never seen one before. After her head had recovered, she slowly rolled out from under the sink. The towel found its way around her shoulder, trying to harbor what heat she could as she trembled where she stood. 'Note to self: get flannel pajamas.'

Why did she feel like the one who'd been drinking last night? – She smacked her forehead repeatedly, 'Not now not now not now…' The longer she didn't think about it, the longer she wouldn't have to face it. She took a quick survey of the bathroom, to see if anything else was just out of place. Towel? Check. Scattered bottle of aspirin on the counter?... check. Sniffing at the air, she grimaced. Why was the stench even stronger now? Certainly they hadn't…

Standing over the toilet, she almost sighed in relief. They hadn't been in here. At least, not both at the same time. This looked like Sano's handiwork indeed. She leaned over and flushed the toilet, retreating back to her own room, all cried out from the night before, and simply passing out onto her bed, towel and all.

*-*-*-*

"Sano-nii'?" Two bright blue eyes peeked over his shoulder, as he bounced a three-year old on his back.

"Yeah, squirt?" She seemed to shake with delight, and nearly hugged the life out of him.

"SANO-NII! Daisuki!!" Misao-chan screamed at the top of her lungs, sending Sano tumbling down from the sudden shock to his system. She knew about two dozen words that made up her entirely vocabulary, those being two of her favorite. He just laughed and rolled over, having a small little bundle straddling his stomach, that promptly started drumming on his chest.

"Oy, you little brat, I love you too," He reached up and ruffled her hair.


	14. Chapter 14 - Sex, Lies, and Videotape

_"You are NOT turning this place into your own personal…" Misao's hands were edging and clawing at air, as she gestured madly, as she looked for the word._

_"Orgy?__ Love den? Nest, perhaps?" Sano grinned simply, watching the shades of red his 'imouto-chan' ('little sister') took. "Oh, I see you like orgy the best, huh? I didn't know you were like *that*…"_

*-*-*-*

At the time, that had been funny, however, in light of what had happened in the last twenty-four hours, Sanosuke faithfully regretted ever suggesting such things. It wasn't enough that his image of Misao was now tainted by the ideas of sex, getting sex, giving sex… having sex with…

"Seta…," the low growl escaped his lips before he realized what he was saying. The pencil that was twirling in his fingers now cracked in half. It seemed that today was naked day in the realm of Sano, as now he lay on top of his comforter, his hair damp, and just barely concealed by a towel.

When he had returned to his room, layered with the dirt and various nameless bacteria pooling in his pores from his extracurricular activities, he had no energy to do much else except sprawl over his bed listlessly. He heard the front door close, and soon after the door from the bathroom to Misao's room. Neither door was slammed, and yet, the noise shattered all hope of drug induced serenity. He took this as an opportunity to venture out of his stinking hole, vainly hoping Aoshi still had that cleaning lady.

Then Sano took a very, very long shower. No matter how raw he rubbed his skin, he couldn't find it in his heart to forgive himself, even if Misao would.

'If she does,' he swiped his hand down the front of his face. Part of him told himself that she knew how he was. None of this should've been a surprise. She'd seen him around the ladies before. Bitterly, his hand returned to cover his face, and his fingers dug into the sides of it, 'And especially now she's a woman and all, she should know…'

There was no pill for this sort of pain. The only clear memory he had of that night was the sounds of her sobs as they raked her body and seeped through the paper thin door. It shattered his previous rationale and prevented him from dodging the blame.

*-*-*-*

The hour of six was near approaching when Aoshi climbed out of the shower. Apparently, this was the hour of hygiene among the men of this apartment. Oddly, each occupant felt worse when they left the bath, then when they went in. He held an end of a towel in each hand and scrubbed his hair dry. Resting the towel on his shoulders, still holding each end, he found himself staring at his unanswering reflection. This orientation thing… he dreaded it. Often he would never admit such things, but it dwelled deep inside of him that this would be a mistake. Who was he to call himself 'a guardian'?

In vain, he'd tried to keep some derivative of 'family' in this trio under one roof. So far, he'd slimly succeeded in keeping all of them alive. But it was only day three. Suddenly feeling the chill of the air in the room, as the steam was sucked up by the fan, he yanked his bathrobe off of its hook on the wall by the shower. Easily sliding it over his shoulders, he deftly tied the belt into a knot with one hand. He tucked his thumb behind the belt, and leaned against the sink counter with the other hand. His back faced the mirror, as it had given him no answers, and no conclusions. 

When they had arrived, the tension, the fights, they were all in fun. Resolved minutes after their rise, it was something to laugh about. The weasel and the rooster, and their reluctant patron. Now it was the man, the woman, and the one forced to watch. It felt like he was living in some deranged foreign flick, where there was never a happy ending in sight.

His calloused fingers skimmed over the loops in the cotton terry, reminded of towels and… of her. There was a snort, a distant cousin to our friend, the chuckle. Those ice blue eyes drifted to the ceiling, as he wondered when the last time he had a woman was. Aoshi wasn't as flippant with such things as Sanosuke was, at least not in the same way. The women still meant nothing to him, they just hung around a lot longer living in delusion. Somehow this made Aoshi the better man, simply because he let them tag along a while longer… only because these women believed they were around for more than sex.

And here stood both don juans, under one roof, with one woman they didn't have a bloody clue what to do with. Swinging the tail end of the terry belt, his mind drifted to the woman… Misao. With raven tendrils framing her face, her shoulders…

Snapping his head back to its proper posture, he turned back around to the mirror. He swiped his hand over his face (apparently an also common trait of these men). She's ten years younger. 'What the hell's the matter with you Shinomori?!'

  
*-*-*-*

"C'mon, Aoshi."

"No."

"C'mooon. You know you want to."

"Sagara Sanosuke. No." He looked his younger brother square in the eye as they stood in front of the new releases in the tape rental store. His younger brother was waving a blank cassette case. Just when he thought Sanosuke was growing up, he grew down.

"Dammit, why the hell not?!" They stood toe to toe, and Aoshi thanked every divinity that they were the only ones there. How would he ever be able to face his father if this got out?

"I don't need it." Sanosuke fumed, as his brother dismissively brushed passed by him to continue perusing the tapes.

"Like I fucking believe THAT…! AOSHI!" The spikey-headed teen trotted up to keep pace with his brother, who was successfully ignoring him. "Don't be so bloody shit-faced about it! Aren't you just a liiiiittle curious???" The young Sano beamed with a winning smile, and suggestive eye wiggle. It always worked on kids his own age, but never did it ever work on Aoshi.

"Iie," Aoshi swiftly moved over to the health section, looking over the Martial Arts training videos. There was an eight year difference between the two siblings, and Sanosuke had probably tried every way possible to take advantage of it. First, trying to use his brother to pick up older chicks. Then he wanted Aoshi to buy him and his friends hard liquor. Now, this. It just kept getting better and better, the fifteen-year-old was completely unyielding.

"Look, you said one tape for you, one tape for me, this is mine!" Sano was trying every route he possibly could. All his friends had seen it without him when they were on the ski trip, that he sourly missed because a certain weasel girl caused him to break his arm and her bedroom door. He saw this as a perfect opportunity to pick up the slack.

Aoshi's tone was hushed, though it was loud enough to back Sano into a wall, "Do you really think I want to watch porn with my baby brother?"

"Would you prefer to TELL me what it's like?"

And so, Shinomori Aoshi swore to himself that after this trip, he was never going to show his face in that video store again. Not after the way that squeaky teenie-bopper girl took the liberties of snickering at him. It took every ounce of his being to not beat the grin off his brother's face… at least until they got back to the apartment.

*-*-*-*

Misao had drearily forced herself awake, when her half closed lids briefly caught the time. It was actually time to get up, not that she was looking forward to it. Her movements were mechanical, her senses decidedly numb. The only thing she could concern herself with right now was not disappointing Jiya.

'Go to school. Get good grades. Try not to kill anyone,' the girl silently noted to herself. It was so tempting right now, as her numbness was subsiding to anger. With new resolve, she was determined to make the best out of this day. She hadn't moved here for him, she'd moved here for Jiya. Looking over her reflection in the mirror, after her shower, and dressing, she began testing out some poker faces. No one would know how much she didn't like that school, no one would know what was going on in her head, at home, nothing. All she had to do was survive this year, and then this hell would be over.

'Out of sight, out of mind,' she thought to herself as her eyes drifted to Sanosuke's door. Before she could dwell on that much longer, she swung herself around, with a swish of her 'tail' and retreated back to her boudoir. Double-taking past the clock, her eyes widened, "Eight-thirty?! Only???" Guess when you put your mind to something, or… get it off of certain things, getting ready for school was just a drop in the bucket. Now she just needed a new distraction.

*-*-*-*

In his lifetime, he could fairly say he had been victim to many alleged surprises. Twenty-eight years on the planet earth did that. None of which, really shook him. Though, he found his hand clenching around the railing of his own private staircase, as he watched a slender girl mess about in the kitchen.

"Mess" being the operative term, Aoshi overlooked the remnants of what looked like failed attempts – yes, plural – at making an omelet. He went completely unnoticed, and sat himself down on the stairs, to simply watch. It wasn't that he had never seen a woman in the kitchen before, it was just never this particular one. In all honesty, it had been a rather long time since he'd seen it, and it struck some chord within him. Strangely captivated, Aoshi wondered what in the blue name of the heavens did she think she was doing… specifically to his kitchen. Aoshi simply found nothing more enjoyable than to sit on his stair, and remain a spectator to the circus down below. No expression on his face, he didn't even raise an eyebrow.

*-*-*-*

"Yosh!" Misao became her own personal cheering squad. Somehow, through the battle with the skillet, and the wars with eggshells, she'd managed to not only make the omelet, but leave her uniform… reasonably unscathed.

Her plan, as spontaneously cooked up as it had been, was to show her appreciation to Aoshi for accompanying her today. 'And yesterday.' He was quite the handsome distraction, indeed. Of course, she would have much preferred to make something like pancakes, but soon discovered that Aoshi hadn't made them out of a box as she had originally assumed. Though it was her favorite breakfast, the meal was not being prepared for her, and… well, it was easier to work with the things she could find.

Sufficiently repressing all of the memories of the last day or so, she glanced at the kitchen clock over her shoulder. Promptly she 'eeped,' as her exploits had taken all of another fifteen minutes. Time sure flew when you were being destructive – thankful. Quickly setting the table, she stood behind the head of the table. There was something about making the silverware perfectly square that absorbed her thoughts, making her nearly bolt across the room when a soft low voice crept over her shoulder.

"Ohayou, Misao-chan."

*-*-*-*

Some martial artist she was, then again, Aoshi would excuse her inattentiveness due to yestermorning's turn of events. He could easily feel the heat of her body from where he was standing, and wondered how long he would have to stand there before he was noticed. Today, he had found it fitting to wear a jacket to go along with his dress slacks, and a stunning cobalt tie. He was going to be a 'parent' after all.

Part of him internally winced. Was he really *that* old?

"Ohayou, Misao-chan," he merely stated, as though he had not been watching her busy herself in the kitchen for the last ten minutes or so. Aoshi merely stood over her as he watched every nerve in her body simultaneously quiver and then stiffen. What had possessed him to scare the living daylights out of her was lost on him, as he hadn't quite caught on to the definition of 'fun,' yet. But he was learning.

===

Author's Note:

I know, I know. You all must be *DYING* to hear from me by now. Heh – just kidding. Anyway, I just thought I'd clear the air a bit about the pairings in this fic… 'cause obviously people are having problems, and I, myself, am as well.

This fic was never… *ever* intended to be a Sano/Misao fic. (Please, restrain  yourselves… ^-^;) I find myself in somewhat of a bind here, because I'm trying to develop now the third point in this bizarre love triangle, but it doesn't really look like many people want me to. (Tough noogies.) I am having two problems with this because… a) I can make it helluva lot easier on me if I just took the easy route and wrote it as a Sano/Misao. That way, I could please what seems to be the majority of my readers, and prevent the fic from becoming too long; b) I most recently watched the episode in the anime where Aoshi smiles… and found it so unbelievably disturbing, not to mention outright frightening, that I am actually discouraged to have him do it in the fic. It just looks weird – and it's disturbing enough that he actually looks *bad* in a kimono.

My answer to problem "a" is simply… well, I'm going to write it the way I wanted to write it to the best of my ability (as I am currently harbored by problem "b")in the first place, regardless of the toes I step on in the interim. I have yet to find a solution to problem "b" – anybody with any suggestions, please, feel free.


	15. Chapter 15 - One Day in Coming

Sano smelled food. Rather, his stomach smelled it first. The man paced back and forth in his room, barefoot and topless, as he stared at his bedroom door. Just on the other side of that door was food. Hell, his stomach was already half way over there, but the rest of him didn't want to step foot out of that room.

The most obvious reason was because he could hear Misao take a shower, leave her room… and for the sake of everything unholy, cook. Misao was nowhere near as bad as her friend, Kaoru, but nevertheless. He wasn't quite sure of her current state of mind, and if it was anywhere near as warped as his, it seemed logical to stay clear.

His mind and his stomach were at odds, as if it wasn't bad enough that he was emotionally at odds with himself. Gripping the sides of his skull, close to walking a hole in the floor, he tried as hard as he could to forget everything that he'd done. What would he usually do in this situation?

"FUCK!" he cursed as he doubled over, having stubbed his toe on the corner of his bed. Curses spouted forth like the fountain of youth, new pain briefly overshadowing the old.

*-*-*-*

"Ao-ao…ao…" Her words failed her, and so did her gestures. Pointing at his chest, to his face, and back again, her eyes stupidly following the digit. 

"Aoshi."

Misao simply nodded dumbly, as he filled in the blank. He slipped his hands out of his pockets and rested them on his hips. She could feel him breathing, how the hell had he…  'Damn, I need to start training again.' Then she found herself in an even more curious situation where the object of her fantastic horror had disappeared from her sight. Rather, he simply took his seat at the table, gently nudging her out of her clueless state with his chair. He didn't seem to make any attempt to inquire why Misao had just softly slapped herself to jar herself back to reality.

*-*-*-*

Aoshi's brow creased ever so slightly at the cracking sound of skin on skin behind him. Settling himself down, assuming all of that previous show was, for some reason, for him. He felt it was now his duty to sit down and submit to whatever ministrations this girl – woman had prepared for him. Oddly, it had been some time since he was the center of attention. Rather, welcomed being it. There was a distantly familiar feeling within him, which he couldn't quite place. It was a comfortable feeling that started somewhere in his chest. Well, whatever it was, he was vaguely entertaining the notion of getting used to it.

"Aoshi-sama!" Apparently, she'd come back to life from her doll-like state. "I made you breakfast!" Her voice was full of it's usual enthusiasm, although it seemed flawed somehow. He hoped, no – prayed – that Sanosuke had at least the decency to be discreet in his nocturnal venture. Aoshi closed his eyes briefly as flashes of cerulean eyes brimming with tears melted away to dead and dull… on a face where they didn't belong.

"Aa." His voice, nor actions (or lack there of), gave away of his pensive state. Since they had come into his life, and later, moved into his home… those eyes had made him feel things long since forgotten. Aoshi, in all of his pragmatism, deduced that due to a lack of maternal influence on the majority of his lifetime, he was naturally responding to the reintroduction of estrogen in his immediate vicinity. Of course, absolutely none of this had anything to do with the fact that he had yet to rid himself of the image of her in a towel.

Well, maybe just a smidge.

*-*-*-*

"This is some kind of a bad joke, right?"

"Aoshi-kun. I'll only be gone for a couple of minutes…"

"Can't you take her with you??" The frown on the old man's face was definitely showing signs of pointing to "no." Aoshi had no desire to watch a three-year old. However, it seemed he had no choice now, as he watched the door close behind his grandfather. 'Why me?' he silently cursed the gods. A small girl was buzzing around the room, imitating an airplane. Apparently there was something terribly amusing about spinning around in circles until one tumbled to the ground, only to get up to do it again.

He had hoped that he could stow away quietly to read his book, but no such thing happened. Just minding his own business, sitting quietly in a meditative pose against the wall… he found himself victim to a miniature vice grip on his thigh. The brightest blue eyes he'd known in his life, were now staring up at him, seeking entertainment. Or, at the very least, some attention. Aoshi wasn't trained in the art of baby-sitting, let alone being sat on by a baby.

The small girl placed herself in his lap, looking at the funny paper thing in his hands, curious to what was so special about it. Her chubby little hands pressed onto the pages, as Misao-chan brought her face closer to the funny little squiggles. The elder boy couldn't help but find some of this amusing, and struggled to keep the corner of his lip from quirking. With his short thirteen years of experience, he couldn't say he was terribly fond of the female species, but he was coming to the conclusion that this one specimen had yet to be tainted by the wily vices of her birthright.

"Ah…" He quirked his brow when she tried to speak. Taking note that she was possibly about to drool on his book, he rescued it from its watery fate by setting it aside. Once it was gone, the girl looked terribly perplexed as to where it had gone to. Her hands felt around grasping at air, then looked about crazily for it. Rolling his eyes ever so slightly, he was happy with himself for providing new entertainment for Misao-chan in the form of the great disappearing novel caper. 

What had him less than pleased was the fact that she tried to poke her head under his shirt to continue the search, and her eyes began to brim with tears when he roughly pulled it back down and out of her grasp. "Ohhh wait nonono…" Aoshi mouthed as he waved his hands in front of her face as if this was somehow supposed to ward off the evil spirits of crying. "Look look look…" He quickly produce the book in front of her face, flashing the pages over her head. "See? It's fine, everything's *fine*…"

There was something a little more than humiliating about a little girl laughing at a boy whose voice just cracked. Aoshi instinctively looked over his shoulders to see if anyone was around. This was one of the reasons he avoided talking so much. In the interim of his paranoia, he unknowingly gave Misao-chan his book to hold on to.

The little girl curiously turned the book over, examining the textures and feelings under her searching fingers. It wasn't like her books that were puffy and soft and had lotsa pictures. Where were all the pictures? She nearly pouted as she turned several pages at a time, creasing most of them along the way.

Aoshi was jerked back to the girl in his lap when he caught the sudden movement in his lap. Her hand had suddenly jerked away from the book, and it looked as though she was going to cry again. "What…??" he grimaced. She got the book, now what did she want? Then he noticed her cradling one of her pointer fingers, gazing mournfully at its tip. A paper cut. 

Now, Aoshi wasn't one to panic. In normal situations, but whenever anything seemed to involve the bundle in his lap, nothing came easy. What was he supposed to do now? He thought of the only thing he could do.

He kissed it better.

And he promptly received a standing ovation and the applause of an old man beaming with pride. 'One day…' Aoshi swore, as he glared at his grandfather. 'One day.'

*-*-*-*

One day, he would be at Jiya's mercy once again, baby-sitting. Although, here he was, and the alleged baby was serving him breakfast. To say this was "peculiar," would be quite the massive understatement.

Aoshi was old enough by now to have the picket white fences, and the 2.5 children. He could've had a wife by now, who shuffled around the kitchen and played with the kids. Where he'd go to work, and come home to a welcome dinner. He could have had all these things… if he believed in them, and if they weren't absurdly politically incorrect. None of these things had ever appealed to him, likely because he could barely recall having such a cliché in his own life.

Well, the 2.5 kids had happened, although not to the same man, and not all that legitimate. When Sanosuke was first born, Aoshi regarded him as a pair of shoes not worth spitting on. A bastard. Of course, he had grown up and he was an adult now and could logically conclude that Sano was, in fact, his brother, even if could still be a real bastard, at times. Aoshi had decided, not too far in the recent past, that Sanosuke – for better, or worse – was his brother. But then, there was the issue of his mother to deal with.

Honestly, Aoshi only spoke to his mother about twenty minutes out of the year. It had been this way since he was fifteen, and his father sent him to boarding school in Europe. 'Oh happy days,' the man thought sourly. Nothing like a trip half-way around the world, away from any support of any kind, to fix a broken heart of a broken home. His father, the genius.

There were few good memories of his parents after the age of six. He suspected this is when she started consorting with that… Sagara. He just seemed like a harmless looking guy who just happened to be at one of his father's business dinners. So harmless, indeed, he knocked up his mother two years later.

It wasn't much later that his father began drinking again. Apparently he'd had problems before Aoshi had been born, but of course the son didn't find this out until years later. He'd go to bed to the harmony of breaking glass, and vicious yelling. At first, Aoshi hadn't known all the details, of course. Parents never tell their kids when anything was wrong, because they, for some reason, thought their children wouldn't figure it out. Because we all know how all children are absolutely blind, right?

Right.

Two weeks after his seventh birthday, his mother disappeared from the house. Leaving him alone with his temporarily indisposed father. When he wasn't passed out from drinking, he was banging some secretary or maid. Aoshi could almost write his father's schedule for him – Mondays: scotch and bourbon, Tuesdays: brandy with a side of ass… he could go on for every day of the week, possibly for the whole year. He hated his mother for leaving him behind.

He hated her. Through all the murmured apologies, and all of the lame excuses. "I wanted to take you with me, I did…" Obviously, she'd tried so hard, she failed. All his father did was hit him. Bruises pain for not more than a few weeks, but his mother had succeeded in scarring him for life.

Every time he looked at anybody, any adult at all, he wondered in the back of his head if they cheated on their wives or husbands. Aoshi was curious if they were divorced, and if their children were harboring untold hate. Maybe, just maybe, that one woman at that one coffee shop was secretly apart of the upper crust of dysfunction. He constantly got told stories in school, of how this movie was so sad… the little boy was so lonely, and couldn't save his dog. Or they would chat about television specials where a broken couple would get back together. His classmates were all fools. They didn't know.

He wasn't a nerd. He wasn't a martial arts fanatic. He simply never wanted to go home, but nobody ever saw that. Aoshi never said anything, to anyone. Honestly, he didn't know if his mother even suspected of anything he was left with. Kempo worked well enough as an excuse for all the bruises and black eyes. No one knew the wiser.

… except for his grandfather. Jiya had retired from training kempo many years ago, so Aoshi was his only student. Though, he never said anything to Aoshi about it, nor did he ever ask any questions. Actually, Aoshi suspected that after figuring out, Jiya actually upped the ante. Training became harder, and more vigorous, and even better – time-consuming. As a man now, he realized what his wise old 'jisan had been doing: keeping him out of his house and away from his father. Not to mention, Jiya taught him how to take hits to minimize injury, and, the adult Aoshi suspected, was goading him to beat the living hell out of his father. Thinking back to those times, the only time he was ever truly happy was at Jiya's.

That note bringing him back to the omelet at hand. He made no motion to eat it just yet, simply surveying it with his eyes. Aoshi, although it wasn't obvious to any on-looker, was extremely suspicious of the risk factor involved. The only women that ever cooked for him were trained professionals.

*-*-*-*

"Aoshi-sama? Aren't you going to eat?" Misao had settled herself at her usual place with a couple slices of toast. Frankly, the smell of eggs had been getting to her, and she didn't feel like eating anything more than bread and butter.

"Aa." …

…

"Today?...!" She felt her anger start to rise. Her weasel instincts were slowly reforming as her fists clenched. Aoshi was pulling a Sano on her. … The thought of which caused her to back down, and after letting out a breath of frustration, she munched on her toast. 'Men.'

'Women.' And, with that final thought, Aoshi took his first bite.


	16. Chapter 16 - Only the Strong Survive

"AOSHI!" the hollering echoed through the empty halls of the Shinomori house.  Footsteps made their way down the hall, every door opening and slamming shut. "Dammit, where the hell is that boy?" There was the sound of liquid swishing back and forth in a container, some spilling and the dulled dripping on the carpet was trailing with each step. The boy in question was silent, as he almost always now. Even drunk, his father's senses were better than most normal men.

Martial arts kind of ran in the family. It was how his parents first met. But his mother wasn't there anymore. She'd been gone, with no word, for almost two weeks now. When his father had been out on business for the day, and Aoshi had a camping trip that weekend… they came home to find everything of hers… gone. Her dresses, her winter clothes, her miles of shoes, the shelves of perfume, her collection of antique masks, all of her jewelry... as if they vanished into thin air. Everything of hers was gone, except her wedding ring. That was the only shred of evidence that she ever existed in that house, and it sat on her bedroom dresser.

It was now securely pressed to a young boy's chest, his last chain of hope. He wasn't going to give it back, no matter what. His mother was coming back, he just knew she would. And when she did, she'd remember the things she'd left behind. Of course she would.

Aoshi could hear him coming, and the door was flung open suddenly, blinding light streaming into his bedroom. He hid in his closet, peeking through the wooden shutters, his body stiffened in fright. It was like watching a horror movie unfold before his eyes, and he was the very next victim. The psychopath had revealed himself, in all his marvelous true colors, with a little help from our friend, Jack Daniel's.

"I know you're here, Aoshi," his father put on his 'trust me' voice. The voice had been used in the last week or so to draw the boy in, only so he could be harshly thrown back away. The shame in the boy's heart grew day by day. Was he always going to be this weak? Why didn't she call? Why wouldn't she call?

Tucking his head between his knees, drawing them up to his chest, he waited. Better him than his mother. She'd come back. She'd come back and make them a family again, and everything would be alright. They'd all live happily ever after, just like on television.

And he waited. For the inevitable, he simply had nowhere to run. Folding his hands over his head, bracing himself for the upcoming onslaught as the closet doors slowly began to open, one lonely tear slid down his cheek. The bottle broke against the wall, and the end of his father's belt tickled at his toes, then the man wrapped the leather about his own wrist. And so it began.

*-*-*-*

"Shinomori Aoshi, you're late for class, again. I'm afraid this is unacceptable behavior, young man."

Aoshi, nine years old now, had overslept. His father kept him up late last night, holding him in a headlock while he forced him to look at pictures of his mother and him when they were still happy with one another. It was just like the anniversaries past. It would always begin with an "Aoshi, my boy" and end with "You fucking son of a whore." His neck was terribly sore now, not to mention he found it really difficult to stay awake.

"Sumimasen, Sensei," the boy bowed respectfully. Aoshi never gave any excuses for his behavior, and he never defended himself. 'Just like at home.' He just said what they wanted to hear for the time being, while he spent most of his thoughts engrossed in fantasies of violent atrocities. The other kids were scared of him, the way he was quiet, and kept to himself. Frankly, he could care less what they thought. To him they were all twits. They were pathetic cogs following in step of a machine of false reality. He hadn't really been listening when the teacher told him that his father would be called, he simply nodded numbly and went on with the charade.

*-*-*-*

Aoshi stared up at the ceiling, as he wasn't in a position to get up right then. His head was pounding, and he was still trying to catch his breath from getting the wind knocked out of him. The metallic taste of blood filled his mouth, and its scent tickled his nose. Every muscle in his body screamed when he had tried to move before, so now he just lay there limply. At least he wouldn't have to go to the hospital… his father had learned that doctors ask questions, and a boy can only fall down the stairs *so* many times.

The house was silent now, which meant his father had left or passed out. It made no difference. None of it mattered anymore.

*-*-*-*

He wondered why he couldn't do it. The plans he had, they were fool-proof. Aoshi could feasibly kill his father, and get away with it. The boy lived between school, the library, and the dojo. He had to fake signatures every once in a while, permissions for field trips, to go to tournaments. His father didn't honestly know the time of day, let alone if his son were home or not. It was only when he was home did it matter to his father.

He reminded him of her. And he drove him crazy each time without fail.

His school work was of no real challenge; he simply paid no attention to it. Aoshi was too busy entertaining his murderous thoughts. Nobody ever sat down and taught him it wasn't healthy to be fourteen and bloody-thirsty. Perhaps he was just distracting himself from wanting to kill himself, but regardless he wanted someone to bleed. It was painfully frustrating, however, as he would do all this preparation, all of this thinking, and then once he was finally faced toe-to-toe with his father… Everything he studied, looked up, it was all useless. No matter of law or legality could stop that hand from coming down on him, none of those anarchist cookbooks had to look their father in the eye.

The turning point came, he supposed, when he first found out about his mother's "new family." It was after the divorce had been made official and the custody battle raged on. He was the Shinomori heir after all, kami knows how many yen he was worth. Aoshi almost smiled.

Strangely, he'd never been all that interested in killing his mother. He wouldn't admit it was anything remotely related to the fact he couldn't do to some poor bastard what his mother had done to him. Then again, that child was no longer a bastard, now was he? Aoshi's pencil snapped in his hand. His mother officially toted the name Sagara, and he failed to see why she was so proud. The aisles of books around him seemed to mean nothing, as if he was no longer there anymore. He was too far within himself that he nearly failed to register the librarian asking him to leave for closing.

*-*-*-*

It was Aoshi's fifteenth year when his father, surprisingly sober, sat him down in his office and began to circle him. The boy didn't even look at him, he sensed where his father was in the room, and braced himself. Something was definitely up. His father finally moved behind his desk and sat down. Aoshi nearly flinched when the man reached for his desk drawer. Nearly.

"Aoshi-kun. As I understand it, your teachers all complain of your performance. Or should I say, lack there of," his father said bluntly, as he produced a large stack of envelopes bound by a rubber band. It sounded like he was talking to a secretary who made his coffee with too much cream. "They tell me your grades have gone a steady decline, and your attentiveness in class is dwindling…" The Shinomori patriarch would stop and look at Aoshi, as though he was going to say something, but the boy never interrupted. Bringing out one of the letters, he read it word for word, "Your son has been routinely tardy, and his performance in class is less than his potential. He has not been participating in club activities, nor does he get along with any of his fellow classmates…"

The boy still remained stoic in his seat. Didn't his father know all of that was his fault? He had covered for his old man's antics for so damn long that it became part of his regularly scheduled programming. Aoshi ground his teeth behind his emotionless mask, and was tempted to stare at his father defiantly. But, the boy kept his cool, as usual.

"I'm afraid that I can no longer control you," Aoshi only blinked in response. "Do you have anything to say for yourself?... Do you have any idea what an embarrassment you are to me? To our name? What has been going through your head lately?" His father seemed to be getting exasperated, which meant he was going to hit the bottle pretty soon. When his father turned his chair away from him, Aoshi rolled his eyes.

'All he cares about is the name, so that's what this is about.' This had nothing to do with him, or how he was doing. It was all about his father and how he looked. 'He's worried about looking like a bad father *now*??' He obviously didn't know how much his son did for him… hiding the bruises, making excuses to his teachers of why he couldn't come to meetings…

His father stayed turned away for quite a while. Aoshi figured he was going for his flask. 'Gee, Dad, don't get bashful about it now,' the boy relaxed in his chair for the time being. As he wasn't about to get the beating of his life, at least not yet, he glanced out the window. He looked just in time to see it was going to rain.

"I have no choice, Aoshi. You put me in this position, so I have to do this," Wow this was starting to sound like he was about to get beat. Aoshi raised an eyebrow, and quickly dropped it when his father turned back around to look at him.

"You're going to boarding school."

*-*-*-*

England wasn't so bad. It wasn't any different than Japan, really. At least, nothing was different for Aoshi, who hadn't changed at all in the last semester. His father called every Sunday, to make himself look good, and sent money every two weeks. Anything he wanted, he got. You know, other than love and affection, which would now be totally lost on him.

For better or worse, he was coming back to Japan for winter break. It was a Wednesday when he arrived around noon, slightly taken by the jetlag. Dragging his suitcase from baggage claim, he strolled it out into immigration and customs. He looked sullenly at the giant sign, "WELCOME TO JAPAN." Horray.

And things got even better. He had expected to see some dupe of a limo driver with a sign with his name on it to appear and try to make idle conversation. Asking him all these stupid questions like, "Are you glad to be home? Happy to get to see your dad again?" Oh yes, he was overjoyed. But no, no such man stood there. Instead, he jerked to a stop half way out of the sliding glass doors into the open terminal.

"Mother." Worse, it wasn't just his mother. She had that kid with her. Sano… Sanosuke. How old would he be? Aoshi did some math in his head… Seven. Great.

"Oh…" his mother's forehead creased, as Sanosuke ducked behind his mother's legs and glared at the elder boy. "I guess your father didn't tell you?" She took Aoshi's blink to mean that he hadn't. "You'll be staying with me…"

He looked at her in that odd way kids do to adults, that seemed to scream, "I could've guessed that, how stupid do you think I am?" His mother seemed to fidget, not quite sure what to do next. Since her ex-husband wasn't around to yell at for this, she would just have to cope. Her hand rested on the spikes that Aoshi had to deduce were actually hairs on the boys head.

"C'mon Sano-chan… say hello to your brother…" Sano-chan was nudged out by his mother's hand patting his back to bring him out into the open. The younger boy looked like he had some spunk in him, stuffing his hands in his pockets and looking over his older brother like he was going to pick a fight. 

"Sanosuke," his mother reminded him to behave in that scolding tone. Sano-chan kicked at the ground, as if to kick up some dirt onto Aoshi's shoes – which would have worked, had they not all been standing on carpet. "Sagara Sanosuke…!" The boy seemed to straighten up suddenly, the use of his full name quite alarming and instantaneously suggesting he would be in big trouble if he didn't do what he was told. The boy muttered something that sounded vaguely like a curse, before looking at the floor, to speak out of the corner of his mouth.

"Hey Aoshi…" the small boy groaned out, and his mother promptly tapped him on the head, "Alright alright! BLOODLY HEL-FUCKING-LO AOSHI-NIISAN!" That earned him a swift smack on the back of his head. The boy pouted firmly, after spitting towards Aoshi's feet… His eyebrows knit together as he looked back up at his mother like she had gone plum-loco for no reason *whatsoever*, while he rubbed at the back of his head.

"SAGARA SANOSUKE! LANGUAGE!" Aoshi could only stand on the sidelines as the civility of society seemed to deteriorate before his eyes. Is this what his mother's side had to offer? To hell with those genes… Didn't this kid have a single brain cell to tell him that his "oniisan" could beat him three ways from Thursday? The elder boy started stalking away towards the exit to the parking lot, now tired and disinterested. Eventually, when Sano-chan was in line, their mother followed and led them all back to the car.

'Some vacation,' Aoshi internally grimaced in the front seat of the car, as he tried to drown out his mother yelling at Sano-chan who was singing out every curse word he knew. It was just the little boy's way of hogging the lime light. If he wouldn't risk cracking a smile in front of his mother, he'd reassure the kid that there was nothing to worry about… Sano could have her.

===

Author's Note:

Well that was an Aoshi interlude. ^-^; Because of all the stuff that's been building up into tension you could slice through with a kodachi, I wanted to end on a happy note. (It's like a roller coaster… go up up up… come down down down… go up up up… come down down down… ^_^; Hopefully you'll stick around to get to the end. o.O; could you imagine hopping off in the middle of a ride? … @.@x Orooo…)


	17. Chapter 17 - Interlude: Sanosuke

Author's Notes:

If you've been an avid reader of this fanfic… you may have noticed the fact that I haven't updated as frequently as before, and I apologize. My classes just kind of piled up, and it was midterm season – and on top of that, my mom came to visit. I don't know if many of you have maternal visitations often, however, it means that my mother becomes the center of my universe and everything else comes second. ^_^;;

Chapters 17 and 18 are interludes… I decided to try a different style to describe Sanosuke's and Aoshi's first times (respectively).  Review and tell me what you think, or if I should just write it in third person. I'm going back to writing the regular story into Chapters 19 and up… it's just for these two chapters.

I hope I still have readers by the end of this. ^_^;

===

I wasn't nervous.

Like fucking hell, I was about to piss in my pants. Shit, man, where did Katsu get this crazy idea from?! Buying me a pro for my seventeenth birthday… I don't even *want* to know how he knew where to get her.

So, here I was. Standing in front of a nowhere motel, on an unknown street, just left of the middle of bumblefuck. To my right, Katsu was grinning like an idiot and patting me on the back. A couple of our other friends were there cheering me on… but it wasn't like Katsu. He was the *only* one there who knew I was still… that I hadn't…

Well, y'know.

It's not like I couldn't get a woman, or nothing. Bloody hell, they were falling on their knees for me, if ya'catch me. I just never found the time with sports and watching my mom and that weasel girl… It's like everyone I fucking know needs protecting, and I'm the only one around with the balls to do it. So obviously, my balls were busy in other departments. Keeping guys' off of my imouto-chan, and keeping my mom from turning into her ex-husband. That would totally not be cool.

Gotta focus. Fuck, I'm gonna shit bricks. Fuck fuck fuck. No pun intended.

So my GENEROUS son of a bitch of a friend decides to take matters into his own hands. The perverted fuck had the gaul to ask me if he needed to supervise. That earned him a hard right hook to the jaw. All my friends know it sucks like hell to get a punch from me when you're stark sober. You don't tell a guy you bought him a whore and offer to take pictures – I'd never live it down, that's for sure.

How did they manage to get me there without a single shot? Hey, I'm no scientist, but I know what alcohol can do to my not-so-little general, and I'm sure as hell not going to embarrass myself on the first go around. Fuck, I better not get some disease or some shit like that. I couldn't handle that. I just want to get this over with, frankly.

*-*-*-*

The motel didn't have an elevator, but I gotta pair o'legs at me that got women – and some men – gawkin' at. I'm a pretty damn fine piece of work, if I say so myself. And I do.

The guys were hanging out in the lobby, with some other 'lady friends.' This entire operation was just a cover for a whore house. It could've been worse. They had nice carpet, even if it did seem to smell funny – even when you were out in the hallway. This place reeked of sin.

My kind of place.

Yeah okay so room… room… 462. I was almost betting for a "69" considering the lengths Katsu went to. It was briefly explained to me that the higher up you go in here, the more the prices go up, and the quality of service. This is the top floor. Fuckin' hell, this is what friends are for. Though, you'd think with the dough people shell out for a good fuck, they wouldn't have to keep the thirty year old shag carpet. Geez, it's like a fucking time warp… and some transvestite from the Rocky Horror Picture show is about to pop up and molest me or something.

Dammit, what the fuck's the matter with you? … thinking of okami [crossdressers] at a time like this. I'd hit you if you weren't me, and so damn good lookin'.

I guess I should, like, knock or something. I was 'prepared' and what not. Mom practically flooded me with the talks and the condoms and bees and birds shit. I gotta watch out for her, she's gone super neurotic since Dad died. But this just ain't the time.

I wonder when Aoshi lost his. Bah, that icicle probably *still* hasn't. It'd take ten visits like this to thaw that fucker out. Hah.

Shit shit shit. SANO! BE A MAN! This delayin' shit is just makin' it worse on ya, man. Find those balls you're so fuckin' proud of and let 'em loose.

Aw fuck, you're knocking like a fucking pansy. You're not fucking Soujirou. What's the matter with you?!!

*-*-*-*

Y'know. If the cops took one look at this room, they'd *know* this wasn't any old motel in the middle of nowhere. The sheets and stuff were all black and red – come to think of it, most everything was. The lamps had these silky, like, red scarves draped over them, and so did the windows. This was totally lookin' like a porn movie.

The dresser top was all velvet, and I swear to kami, there were candles *everywhere*. This room alone could've burned down the whole of Kyoto for crying out loud. My guess? They were there to cover up any smells. A grin grew on my face… and disappeared when I noticed I was alone.

The light was on in the bathroom, and I can hear that annoying grinding of the fan inside. When I closed the door, the bathroom door opened… and there she was.

To say she was hot would just not do that body justice. Gorgeous, or some word with too many letters like that. She must've guessed what I was thinking, or thought she knew, 'cause she leaned against the door frame and looked me over in the exact same way.

"My, you're a green one, ain't ya," she smirked, with those sexy ruby lips. I mean, wow. And those were gonna be wrapped around my…

"I still get paid if we stand here all day, you know," I just looked at her blankly. I got a glance at the bathroom, it was more like… a dressing room in the backstage of Moulin Rouge or something.

But what the hell was *I* supposed to do? It's not like I did this on the regular, or something. She's being paid to do the work, hell, why *should* I do anything? The man inside me said that I should be doing something really cool and suave or something right about now.

With normal women, maybe. But here, I was dealing with a pro.

"Yumi." I looked at her like she was crazy. My head came crashing down to earth, and my hormones started to kick in. Gad, I mean, they never took that long before. "… just so you know what name to cry out." My mouth opened to protest, "… and you *will* cry out."

… and… what was my name again…??

===

Author's Note:

Well. Do you know any *other* whores in Rurouni Kenshin?


	18. Chapter 18 - Interlude: Aoshi

I don't like to remember those times.

Don't get me wrong, I have nothing against England, their fish and chips, or their occasionally stuck-up attitude. With their accents, and pinkies in the air and their porcelain tea cups… It's not like I felt alienated or anything, no no no.

Then again, I wasn't exactly in a position to criticize… I was probably one of the richer kids in this jail – boarding school… place. Of course, I was also the most slanty-eyed, which didn't win me many points. It either meant I was a technological and mathematical genius, or that I was just a flat out nerd. I forget what other stereotypes there were… but I'm a "jap" all the same. Poor me, and my lack of rice and kelp in my new diet. Of course that joke, after the thirty-fifth time, was still giving me shits and giggles. Or about the patronizing manner several classmates offered, in all of their kindness, to teach me, the foreign barbaric atomic victim, how to use a knife and fork. Do any of these people know what century we're in?

It's like I live on an island inside of an island. And on that island in the island, I live in a small tiny box, with steel bars, crowded by rabid and obnoxious parakeets that can't shut up due to diarrhea of the mouth. And to think, this is an improvement.

I'm glad I got away from it. From him… and *by* him, no less. The devil and the saint, my father is. I can't think of him as a man any longer, as he is only the shell of one. As I will be in several years. Like father, like son, I suppose.

As soon as the plane touched the ground, I knew I was in for something I just wasn't ready for. I knew English, but I hadn't used it enough to be very great at it… and that's all I needed, to make an utter and total fool of myself. Not to mention, my voice hadn't stopped cracking yet. Call it anti-social, but if they want me to talk, they'll have to beat it out of me just like my dear old papa.

*-*-*-*

So now I'm stuck with this… counselor. Apparently, because of my record, they want to "work out my issues." It's like they want to rehabilitate me instead of educate. This is a sick place indeed. The walls always smell of pine wood cleaner, and the windows always sparkle… it's like living in a museum.

I suppose my classmates aren't so bad… not that I intentionally got to know any of them. They were the same as before… just mindless idiots who didn't know what pain was. If they crossed my path, they'll sure as hell find out, that's for sure.

It's been two months since I first arrived, and every single day I'm stuck going to see this… woman. I'm not a big fan of her species, I can tell you, and I doubt if I'll ever be. She's nice, for one of them. Mrs. Sanjou. They assigned her to me because she was also from Japan, and they thought I'd feel more at home speaking to "my own kind." Thank you, welcome wagon.

The way she looks at me… it makes me feel… weird. I know I'm fifteen, and going through "changes" and all that over trumped jazz, but this cannot be normal. It isn't the warm tingly feeling in my loins when I see something I shouldn't… Or the shiver that courses in my blood and runs down my spine urging me to quench some primal thirst. No. It's just a shudder. It is a cold, chilling shudder that slowly works its way from the nape of my neck, down my gullet, and into my stomach where it does a triple spin cycle, with rinse.

I don't trust her. I tell her things, only because I feel I have to. I don't talk about home, and I pretend to miss it. She has a daughter, who she talks about all the time. Like if she told me about herself… I will eventually tell her about myself. Although she doesn't talk about her husband much, but that didn't remain all that surprising for long.

*-*-*-*

She'd asked me to come over to her house. That may be unusual in western cultures, but in Japan… teachers were second only to parents. Just a spill off the old ways, I guess. So I really thought nothing of it. I mean… she was married after all, and though that had apparently meant little to *my* mother, I thought maybe. Just maybe, it meant something to her.

She told me her daughter needed tutoring. It would seem she neglected to mention that, in fact, her daughter was five. What five-year-old needs tutoring? I should've known. I just should've known.

I didn't struggle, I didn't do anything. I let my hormones along with her hands do the work. Let her grope me, and touch me. Touch me so that I would touch her. She showed me things, many things. How to please, how to touch, and of course, first and foremost, she taught me how to lie. Somehow I would manage looking her husband straight in the eye, as he would smile and shake my hand, which would later be on and in his wife. Somehow I would manage not to purge when their little daughter ran up to my leg and hugged me, and called me her big brother. This, of course, would be the same big brother who lay beneath her mother day after day, as she had her way.

I hadn't felt much for the longest time, other than anger, so things like remorse… guilt… all of these things eluded me. None of it seemed to matter now. I hadn't left Japan with much innocence to begin with, so what difference would it make now?

Like mother, like son, I suppose.

*-*-*-*

I would come over a lot after that. I even met her husband on some occasions, when I was allegedly baby-sitting. "What a nice young man," he would say to me, and pat me on the head. I suppose I should've felt shame, but all I thought of what a piteous excuse for a man can't see what his own wife is doing behind his back.

I suppose not all men can be smart like my father. Hah.

He would leave, and Tsubame would be at her friend's house down the street, leaving me alone with her mother. My counselor. What better way to comfort me than with her own bosom? So, I allowed her to grope me with those desperate hands. She could hold me like a son, and use me like a sin… as long as she did the first. I swore her fingers knew every inch of me by that time. I would moan, groan, and grunt in a mechanical fashion, which didn't seem to make any difference to her. The parts she needed were parts I had, and I couldn't care anymore.

I suppose that's why I let it happen. It was why I continued to let it happen. I couldn't remember what the warmth of a woman had felt like in so long. Pushing away my mother, I never even once let her embrace me again after she left. After she left me with him… especially not when she was bulging three feet in front of her with my bastard brother. She would look like she would cry, or like her heart was breaking, but she didn't know. She didn't know what pain was.

So she'd gotten a divorce. Big deal. She lost a husband she obviously didn't want that much to begin with. Oh yeah, she loves me. Like a fish hook loves an old boot… when it can't find its way to pierce the skin of the fish it's looking for, it just settles for tearing through water-beaten leather. That Sanosuke… HE's the boot, not me. I was first, I came first, I should be first. I lost both of my parents in one fail swoop, and he gained a happy home, with smiles and hugs and puppies and picket fences and – it makes me sick.

Dammit, I was the one who lucked out. I was the one who deserved to be loved, for I did nothing to deserve to be punished like this. What did I ever do? I suppose my only crime, as with many children, was sheer ignorance. Inherent vulnerability to those who are higher up in the gene pool always seem to pull rank.

And here this woman, offering all the warmth she had. Or taking mine, I wasn't quite sure then. I fooled myself into thinking I loved her… that I was living in some dream, some stupid chick flick that had no substance and yet still managed to hold the audience because of sheer predictability. I knew how this was going to end, but I fooled myself.

Why can't I have a dream? Why can't I live a dream? Why can't I seek a new life and have goals and hopes of my own? Why should only my mother… the infidel, why should she get all the glory? What did she do?

She did what this woman was doing to me now.

It just… it makes no difference now. As long as I'm here, I can keep pretending. Japan is a couple of specks on the other side of the world, and my parents are dead. They're dead to me, dead to this world that I created.

I don't miss them. I don't miss home. I just tell her that so she thinks I need her to do this, and to be here. Hah.

She knows my alleged weaknesses because I let her. Because I grant her such permissions. Because I *let* her exploit me, and my youth. She finds me the fool, that I am not wise to this game she plays. She thinks I don't hear the rumors that tickle the hallways about the others… just like me, however daft to her true devices. For her, it is about her… for her, with her, to her.

For me, it is about nothing, means nothing, and so I feel nothing.

Women.


	19. Chapter 19 - Omeletes and Open Houses

Aoshi ate solemnly and in silence, knowing that she was watching his every movement. He felt like a germ under a microscope, the way her eyes were inspecting him. If he ever needed inventory on his parts, he'd know where to go. 

'Hah.' He half scoffed, half laughed in his head. She had yet to see all of him, but he wouldn't be surprised if the thought had crossed her mind. For if he were to look at her, even with the coldest gaze he could muster – and yet, he couldn't, not with her… she would blush, and hide. Bashful and shy, and… well. Like a school girl. Imagine if she were ever to look at him, and get truly get to know his parts. 

'I've been living with Sano too long,' he lifted the fork to his mouth, chewing steadily. Carefully. No egg shells yet. This was a good enough sign. The green peppers could stand to have been diced finer, but it wasn't a fatal ordeal she was submitting him to. He hadn't been *scared* persay… just cautious. She was still one of "them" afterall.

He finished, and got up rather primly from the table, as if to ignore the eager wide blue eyes that waited for his approval. It was almost amusing to watch her go through phase after phase of emotion… '… Five… four… three…' Those blue eyes, he knew, had a glint of hope in one corner as her gaze was unyielding.

"Aoshi-sama?" Only three? This must have been some special omelet. He only gave her a nod, and yet marveled at how she beamed, and bounced out of her seat, getting her things together to get ready for their school day. It only took one look, and she would give back so much. Such a curious phenomenon, really.

Her innocence was intact, regardless of Sanosuke's doubts, but Aoshi could see it clear as day. By the way she moved, and the grace she held – well, when she wasn't trying to hurt something, or could see over the neon blush of her cheeks… It was truly a marvel, as Aoshi found such a kind of woman fairly rare.

No. Near extinction.

It was just this one. This Misao. … his Misao-chan. Jiya had set him up again, giving him a task larger than life: to care for this girl and everything she was. There was a feeling, a rather foreign feeling, which stirred in his chest. It spoke of reason… reason to continue, reason to stay, reason to permit and allow these intruders into his home. It gave him a reason to protect, and… to feel.

'Arigato, Jiya.'

*-*-*-*

So, Shinomori Aoshi, bachelor, age twenty-eight… was now a parent. Well, a temp. Misao stewed as they walked. Her arms swung listlessly at her sides, rustling the pleats in her skirt idly. She really didn't like putting Aoshi in this position. It was bad enough he'd got dragged into the spats she had with Sanosuke…

'Sano-nii',' her voice spoke to her inside her mind. It sounded so foreign, so young, so sweet. Just how she would say it to her beloved and dear older brother… but it was so different now. She couldn't put more pressures and burdens on Aoshi-sama, so she would allow that to tear her up inside and did as it may. For now, Misao could keep busy as her classes were going to be starting up their serious curricula any time now. Her tears will be hers, and hers alone.

'Anytime now.' Any distraction whistled hope. For now, she could pretend. For Aoshi-sama. For Jiya. And most importantly, for herself.

The pig-tailed girl, once again, wasn't focusing on where she was going. So when Aoshi's cell phone went off, she fell over onto a near by car. Unfortunately, said car had an alarm, which only sent her screeching further, clinging desperately to a street pole, with knuckles white, and breath ragged.

Although this street pole had a funny way of… talking to his secretary???

*-*-*-*

Aoshi, regardless of the thousands of stares and lookers on, basically feigned ignorance to the fact that there was a perfectly ample young woman clinging to him for dear life. He simply continued walking, as though the weight meant nothing. When he was far enough from the car alarm to hear himself, as well as his secretary, his arm wrapped around her remarkably small waist and set her on the ground. He noted that he was no longer holding a young woman, he was holding a wooden two-by-four, or something similarly as stiff.

*-*-*-*

"Aa.… Iie... Unh… Aa." Misao couldn't help but gape at Aoshi's rather unique communication skills. Not to mention the fact he just held her, and let her cling to him. 

'What the *hell* just happened?' Misao, all on her own, had discovered the common question among the locals. Aoshi simply closed his cell phone, and without a mere glance, he continued walking to the school. When Misao snapped out of her dazed, she followed toe to toe.

"Aoshi-sama?" She had to say *something*. She just wasn't quite sure yet, maybe she'd just wing it. He looked at her through the corner of his eyes, a soft blue-green gaze that was threatening to turn her into molten lava. 'Think, Misao! He's waiting for you to say something!! THINK!' She mentally smacked herself.

*-*-*-*

"Do you *ever* work?" Aoshi tucked away the corner of his lip and looked at her as though he just asked her if his ass were made of green cheese.

"Iie. I just doodle all day." If he had the gall to show any more emotion that day, he would've rolled his eyes as Misao walked into a lamppost, and he let her. He mused as he watched her fight with herself, obviously realizing what a stupid question that was. Maybe he should've said, "No, Armani is my second cousin, and spots me the suits for free."

It wasn't a smile, no.

*-*-*-*

"I have homework to do."

"Iie… not now…" her hand roamed over his chest, as he stared at the ceiling. Her hands were all over him again, and it made him terribly bored. Lately, boredom was usually accompanied by the filling of bile in the back of his throat, but he would choke it back down from once it came.

"Again?" He rolled over. Every time her husband left, it was like this. Night after night… several times a day… She was frankly insatiable, not to mention predictable. It was become a dull mechanical routine. And oh, how lucky he was, to be her 'favorite.' Aoshi wished his body hadn't matured so quickly, or perhaps he wouldn't have to be in constant demand of this… thing that lay beside him, cooing.

The cooing was the worst part. She would flirt in their sessions, threaten to take him in the office… she helped nothing, did nothing for his troubles. The distraction was good enough, but he was quite tired of her now. Aoshi didn't really have to do anything anymore. Frankly, she would take care of it. Or would have him trust her to do what needed to be taken care of, but as he didn't trust any women, she was no exception. Tossing her arms aside, and turning her away, he threw his legs off the bed and planted his feet on the floor.

"Enough. I have work to do." It was just the same as it had been. In Japan. Work was the only escape. Overworking his only peace. Nothing changed. Nothing ever changed.

*-*-*-*

Something had changed. Once they reached the school, Aoshi had noticed that Misao was still nursing her smarting forehead. She was startled when he took her chin in his fingertips, if not just because it was Aoshi, but also because they were in broad daylight in front of her school for crying out loud. What was he going to do? Kiss it better?

Her face turned scarlet, as he examined her, and pressed his lips thinly. 'What *is* he doing?' Questions swam in the young woman's mind, trying to tune out all of the people that stood around and cooed or sneered. His diagnosis was in his eyes. She was overreacting, again. It was times like these, and looks like those that made Misao hate the gender she was born into. She felt like a child when he looked at her that way… The notion caused her heart to sink. So, she wasn't developed like some of the other girls – but she was still a girl, ask any one of her doctors. There was something that always had to remind her that she was built like a muscle toned first year.

When he released her chin, she felt a chill. It was as though all the warmth from her body just escaped all at once with the gentle autumn breeze, and it had all been held in his tender touch. It returned again when he spoke to her, in a soft and rather alluring tone.

"We'll get some ice on it, Misao-chan. Don't aggravate it." Pity all problems couldn't be solved so easily? She chuckled to herself, 'Take two Aoshis and call me in the morning!' Misao had inherited some of Jiya's dry humor, it would seem. Then she snapped out of it, when she saw girls staring at the pair. (But of course, she would have to take note of that mental image for later.)

They walked, Aoshi's hand gently resting on her shoulder, pressing her to move onward to lead them to the infirmary. It was a companionable silence as she tried to recall where in fact she was. It was difficult when the walls seemed to whisper at every turn. "There is *no* way that's her dad." "If my dad looked *that* good, I'd never leave home..." "Uhm, why did she bring her boyfriend??"

As Misao's face burned, she shook her head, pressing her fingertips to her temple – a safe distance from her wound – and sighed. 'This is going to be a long. Long day.'


	20. Chapter 20 - Just Put Ice on It

Author's Note:

This post is mostly cleaning up previous chapters. For future reference, or just for those who forgot that I mentioned this about a dozen chapters back, **_I do not post new chapters until I get reviews on the old ones._**

I have to thank Amanda for her beta-reading of a whole mess of chapters for me, and for putting up with me. ^_^; I suppose I should thank my teachers as well… for if they're classes could keep my attention for the entire period, then I wouldn't have time to think up new chapters. Heh.

  
Things I'd like to know in reviews to come:

Did people like or dislike the recap of Sanosuke's and Aoshi's first experiences? 

What do you people think of the ASCII? (Those would be the text based images that I slapped in for no real reason whatsoever, regardless of how I can rationalize it.) Should I just take them out or what? (It's not like they're hard to make, since I have a program that does it for me and all… but I was just curious to whether people actually cared if they're there or not.)

===

Back at the home-front, Sanosuke paced. He also cursed, swore, spat, kicked, punched, hit, broke… at or to various items of the apartment. It wasn't enough that he had to suffer, but that he had to do it alone. Worst of all, everything he was going through right now was totally self-inflicted.

Things were not supposed to go this way. They'd practically spent their whole fucking lives together, and now they're under one roof, and they can't even look each other in the face? … Well, okay, so the theory had yet to be tested since both were avoiding one another like the plague. Unfortunately, Sano's chosen method of medicating the situation had only fanned the flames.

'She actually left a number…' he rolled his eyes as he count the crumpled piece of paper in the corner of his eye. That shouldn't have happened. He shouldn't have done it. It was what he came here for, granted, but not like this…

Sanosuke could see her face. Not the face of the woman he had been with last night, but Misao's delicate face. He could see the tears streaming down her cheeks, and the way her body shivered as it raked with bitter sobs. Everything was his fault, and he couldn't look at her without knowing it. He couldn't think of her and try to deny it… What had possessed him to -…

Well, first of, what possessed him to let Misao come along. He knew damn well what he would do when he got here. Sano was just shagadelic like that. So the obvious question, why would he want his imouto-chan there with him when he was chasin' a piece of tail? This was one fucked up situation right here. He should have *never* let her come.

'Like it was my fucking choice… stupid old fart…' Jiya had sold him with the "all girls school" trick, 'Dammit.' He cursed that man to the high heavens. His grandfather constantly managed to hold all his grandchildren by puppet strings… making them do and see whatever he damn well pleased. He was a conniving smelly old bastard, he was. Sano loved him all the same, but that didn't change the fact that he was a conniving smelly old bastard.

"Plenty of ladies for the pickin', m'boy! You'll have to tell me *all* about the pretty girlies! Ohohoho!!!!!"… Sano fell over, as the cackling perverted banter of his grandfather swam in his head. That part of it had been only part of the reason Sano had agreed to whole thing.

Misao would be at an all girls' school. This, of course, meant no boys. In turn, less work for Sano to do, and more time to go chasing skirts.

Some part of him felt guilty about the daily marauding he did at their high school, breaking jaws left and right… In his mind, it simply had to be done. Misao was his….

'Imouto-chan.' It sounded foreign now. As if a voice from a far away place was calling, and he happened to be around to hear it. She was "Weasel." She was …

Doing a pretty brilliant job of driving him out of his fucking mind.

*-*-*-*

The school infirmary was the only peace they found on the whole campus. Everyone was buzzing, or gossiping, or doing that annoying squealing that girls think guys think is cute. Misao wondered how many hours they practiced their shrill high pitches, and facial expressions just for the sake of knowing someone else was watching. It was rather detestable, she found.

However, right now, she was in little if any a position to criticize. She had spent some good part of the morning trying to look good in front of Aoshi. Of course, Misao would never stoop to squealing. She was a weasel, not a pig, after all.

There was an elderly old man with coke bottle glasses who seemed to perfecting the hospital creases on the beds. The infirmary was a little small, but almost homey. There were photographs of students past, and of two little girls – one with pigtails, the other with her hair down, looking absolutely adorable. The linens were virgin white, which Misao thought was probably contrary to most of the student body… but she held her tongue about such opinions. Everybody knew what catholic school girls were like… right? Misao dreaded her initiation to becoming one.

It took but a moment for the doctor to note that they were there, and he turned around with a large smile on his face. One stubby finger pushed his glasses up his nose, where they promptly slipped back down.

"My, you two are going to be late for today's festivities… how may I help you?" He tucked his hands behind his back as he approached, looking the two over. It hadn't taken long to notice the red bump that had made a home on Misao's forehead. "Oh, I see… well, well, come this way then..."

A sheet that hung from the ceiling shrouded a small examination table… Misao took the hint and hopped up onto it, and as such things are, it was cold. Her knees knocked together a bit, as she tried to sit still on the block of upholstered ice.

"She hit her head." Wow, Aoshi, way to state the obvious. Although he had that brief bout of sarcasm earlier, it looked like he was tapped out of cool things to say. Misao rolled her eyes, and pointed a foot at Aoshi.

"You could've stopped me, you know!" An anger raced through her blood, it was nothing vengeful or thirsting for violence, but just out of sheer annoyance for the older man. He could've well stopped her; he has before, after all.

"You should've stopped yourself." At this, Misao blushed and looked down into her lap. She was a martial artist, too, after all. She always blamed the nearest man around when she clutzed out… Well, it was their fault for sending her hormones awry. 'Bastards. All of 'em. 'specially the good lookin' ones.' Her teeth ground together, as her hands curled over the edge of the examining table, coming in contact with its cold steel frame. "And now, we are late."

"Maa, maa… you two…" The old man had quite a pleasant disposition, and watched the back and forth antagonism. He was holding a cup, which was out of the small freezer that was off in the corner of the little indoor sheeted gazebo. It felt as though they were in an entirely different room, but the sheet couldn't be much thicker than those classic paper shoji.

*-*-*-*

"ITAI!!!!" Misao recoiled, and almost fell over backwards off the examining table when the cold compress touched her forehead. Even wrapped up in paper towel, the ice pack was cold, very *VERY* cold.  The old man's laughter echoed through the small room.

"It's to take down the swelling and reduce the redness… unless you want to go around with a crimson softball sticking out of your forehead…" This time, the old doctor offered her the ice pack to put it on herself. When she took it, with a shivering hand, she saw the glint of light flash off of the doctor's metal name tag. He jumped in his place, and bowed his head to the two. When he straightened he angled his nameplate with two fingers and smiled, "I am Doctor Genzai… the head of the infirmary here at St. Catharine's."

Misao was too busy cursing under her breath at the compress that was chilling her hand to the bone, not to mention threatening to give her brain freeze, so Aoshi introduced them both. "This… is Makimachi Misao. I am Shinomori Aoshi." Aoshi's eyebrow went up after he saw that the doctor had lifted his. Dr. Genzai glanced at Misao and chuckled.

"I hope my granddaughters have as much spunk as her when they reach that age…" He took off his glasses and rubbed the lens with his shirt between two fingers. After sliding them back on, he smiled at the taller man, "They do nothing but run around in circles pretending to be airplanes all day, I'm afraid they'll wear themselves out before they're waist-high."

"I *loved* that game!!" Misao beamed, straightening up with a goofy grin, then realized how silly she looked. Her face flushed bright red, regardless of the cooling sensations that radiated from the ice against her forehead. Aoshi almost smirked. Almost.

"You two youngin's better run along now…" He paused, looking from Aoshi to Misao, obviously silently questioning their relation. Misao's mouth moved but failed to work, as she didn't quite know what to say.

'He's my brother's brother. – no no… He's that guy I live with – definitely not… He's a hottie! Need I say more?'… the ice was apparently going to her brain.

"She's my aunt."

  
*-*-*-*

Aoshi nearly smiled again, when Misao sputtered various curses, and promptly fell off the examination table. The aged doctor laughed, but helped her up.

"MOU AOSHI-SAMA!" she cursed, waggling a finger at him. He stared blankly at her, because it was true. Jiya was his grandfather, and for all intensive purposes, she was his daughter. So, therefore, the daughter of his grandfather would be his aunt. Misao realized this long before, as she used to tease Sano about it all the time way back in the day. However, it was blatantly obvious Aoshi was teasing her, *again*.

"Maa, maa…" Dr. Genzai rolled his eyes, and gently held the girl back by her shoulders, "You'll hurt yourself again and never leave this place… and as much as I love the company, I think you two should get going… it's already almost nine o'clock." Misao's eyes bugged out, and Aoshi found himself dragged out of the door at lightning speeds towards the front desk.

'Quick recovery,' he quipped silently.

*-*-*-*

They reached the front desk, where they were supposed to pick up today's special schedule. Aoshi would get to meet each of Misao's teachers, as well as get to see the school grounds and ask questions. However, they were missing the big introduction ceremony in the main hall because of an incident with a lamppost.

As stealthily as possible, they snuck into the main hall, into the back row, in order not to interrupt the speakers in the front. It looked like the entire faculty was lined up on the stage, sitting in a grand line of educators. The dean was apparently in the closing of her speech as they had entered. Aoshi tuned this out to look over the schedule in his hands.

Misao, on the other hand, was surveying the scene. First of all, she wanted to make sure no one noticed their entrance. Second of all, she wanted to make sure no one was giving her funny looks for the bump on her head. Third of all, she wanted to make sure no one else was gossiping. She was wound up tighter than a fishing reel, that's for sure.

'History… English…Chemistry…' Aoshi paused at what else he saw there. He whispered softly to the girl next to him, "Anno, Misao-chan… have you seen your schedule yet?" His guess was the answer was no, because otherwise she would've had a lot more to say about her first day of school had she known…

"Doushite?..." Her eyebrows knitted, and her lips pressed together thinly. The bump was just about gone, from the looks of it, and Misao had rested the ice pack in the empty seat beside her. She leaned closer to Aoshi, till her shoulder pressed into his arm, looking over the paper in his strong hands.

*-*-*-*

"JIYAAA!!" The fires of hell emanated from the small weasel girl in the back row. Luckily, though, the speech was over, and most people were already filing out of the room. The ones who had been around to witness however, sneered at the girl's uncouth outburst. The sneer was promptly turned into speculative glances at her male companion, but they said nothing, at least not while they were still in earshot.

"Misao-chan… calm down… I'm sure it won't be that bad…" Aoshi was actually entirely amused by the turn of events, but was hiding it well.

"BALLET?! HE PUT ME IN BALLET?!" The older man bit his tongue. The temptation to laugh grew stronger the more he was with her. He would have that discussion with his subconscious later.

"For balance, I'm sure," He noted calmly, if for no other reason than to get her to lower her voice a handful of decibels. It was also painfully obvious to her that her coordination had been off for the past week or so, and she needed to get back intro training.

"… but BALLET?!... and Etiquette?! What the hell is that?!" She had shot up from her seat a while ago, and was waving the poor defenseless piece of paper like a banner into war. Sticking her nose up in the air, she made her voice sound terribly rigid and stuffy, " 'Eastern and Western Etiquette for Young Ladies' – that doesn't sound like a CLASS… it sounds like elementary brain washing!"

"I'm sure they're not trying to brainwash you, Misao-chan." However, it couldn't hurt to try. Jiya had masterfully arranged all of this ahead of time, knowing exactly what he was doing. That old coot had one too many tricks up his sleeve, but Aoshi excused them when they served to amuse him.

"Okay… fine. *FINE*. But Home Economics?! They're not shoving me in the kitchen THAT easy!!" She shot back at him, twirling around and glaring at him. Not that it was his fault, but he was a man, he was here, and he was e-v-i-l. When he spoke, it was then she noticed their noses were less than a handful of inches away from one another, and the bridge of her nose shaded a nice light pink.

"You were in the kitchen this morning, and seemed quite comfortable." He'd been *watching* the whole time?! Misao fell back into her seat beside him, with a little rustle of the pleats of her skirt as they were crushed into the steel folding chair. Her face was red once more, as it had turned so many times that day… Aoshi reached over her and offered her ice pack back.

"When the redness goes down, I'll see you at your first class." He left the schedule with her, as he had already installed most of the information into his brain. It looked like history was first up to bat, and this school had quite the firecracker on their hands.


	21. Chapter 21- Science Never Looked so Good

He hadn't been nearly outside of the hall when he heard running footsteps coming up from behind him, followed by a stream of muttered curses. The halls were bustling now, everybody trying to get to where they needed to go. It was nice though… the school kept admissions restricted, so that the hallways weren't jam packed, or stifling. He couldn't exactly ignore, however, the appraising looks of the massive female population, and the discerning looks of the males.

When they reached the classroom, pairs of desks were pushed together, and the students' names were on each. Not soon after he sat down, did the chair next to him filled, and a very miffed looking Misao was glaring at him. It seemed as though he wasn't giving he r the time of day, but it was for no other reason than to get another rise out of her.

He considered stopping. Maybe he would even give up on teasing her for the sake of his amusement. 'Naaah.' Aoshi smirked in the back of his head. It was like a part of him awakened amongst these juvenile halls. It was as though the boy he once was became alive again today. Although, practically speaking, if he continued to needle Misao, she might react in such a way that would get her kicked out for misconduct. That would lead to two misfortunes… Misao would probably go back to Kyoto, and Jiya would probably be killed by Misao soon thereafter.

"I bet you think this is funny," she piped up. Her knuckles were white as she strangled her schedule in her lap. He wasn't sure if she was referring to her constant blushing disease, or the dance and etiquette lessons, since he found both rather comical. Wisely, Aoshi kept his mouth shut.

*-*-*-*

Sagara Sanosuke was wrestling with his latest foe: the washing machine. He'd already washed his sheets twice over, but the smell was still there, now it was just laced with citrus. Frankly, the constant sniffing of detergent plastered sex-soiled fabric was beginning to make him nauseous. He cursed and muttered… followed by cursing and yelling after he stubbed his toe kicking the heathen mechanism.

*-*-*-*

History, and English… and even Chemistry had flown by with little incident. Mostly, this was a result of Misao having yet to recover all of her dignity. Now it was ten o'clock, and they had a twenty minute break to show her 'parent' around the grounds.

'I knew this would be a bad idea… I just knew it…' She was kicking a pebble along the ground as they walked towards the stables. Misao was slowly taken from her thoughts by the foul stench of manure, and then she realized where they were going. "Mou… stinks."

Misao had a habit of taking her frustrations out on anything and everything, and right now the object of her woe was walking beside her like he didn't have a care in the world. Aoshi had made her feel the fool several times that day, and she was beginning to wonder if she would do nothing but suffer through this experience with him. The easier part of the day was over, now it was time for… *those* classes.

*-*-*-*

"You say it like it's the animal's fault," Aoshi stated matter-of-factly. His hands were in his pockets; his movements were graceful cross the dirt, and his strides were casual. It seemed as though he was entirely immune to the smell. In truth, the man thought of horses as being majestic, and he was frankly at ease with the world for the moment. It was hard not to be considering his company.

"I was just stating a fact: it smells," she was pouting so cutely, her arms crossed in front of her. Misao's braid swayed with her movements, like a delicate pendulum. He wondered briefly how she would manage to take care of all of it. Aoshi's own hair had been known to tangle, but it wasn't a fraction of the amount that this girl had.

"Then why did you lead me here?" The girl stopped in her tracks, and so he also halted a few steps ahead. Aoshi turned around to face her, leaning forward with his head slightly tilted. Her face was hidden beneath her bangs and her fists were balled at her sides.

"You didn't have to come, you know," she muttered under her breath, turning back towards the main building. Aoshi could do nothing more than blink. He'd expected her to explain, yell, scream and protest in denial. The man certainly did not expect her to turn around and leave in a huff. What had *he* done after all?

'You teased her,' a voice said in his mind. Well, so what? Sanosuke did it all the time, and she never reacted so subdued. It was never like she ever got angry at him for poking fun. Then the voice interrupted him with logic. 'You think you can be her oniichan after all these years?'

Touché. He hadn't been there for most of her formative years, so it was unfair of him to assume that they, too, could have such an informal relationship. Perhaps he pushed his bounds, but he would not apologize now. Apology would be akin to admitting he did something wrong, when at most, he was simply stating fact.

Aoshi caught up to her with little effort, and looked over her strained features. He knew this was hard for her. The calls of "Mom!" and "Dad!" keep them ensnared them in this place. Frankly, he understood. It wasn't easy for her to fit into a place like this, and he wasn't exactly helping, was he? When he had first moved to England, and practically all his time spent there, he had been alone like this, isolated from all others by one thing or the other. Misao was not like these other girls. Aoshi didn't think she could be if she wanted to, it just wasn't her. In all honestly, he wasn't sure why he was acting the way he was… He'd just been so relieved when she began acting like normal again…

'There you go thinking you know her again,' he self-scrutinized. He couldn't help that he *felt* he'd known her his entire life. Aoshi tried to prevent from feeling at all, after all. It was as much of a surprise to him, than his decision to come today had been to her. Things weren't great on the home front, and it seemed that within forty-eight hours the lighthearted rivalry in the house had turned into outright tensions. However, it wasn't his place to say anything. All of it was happening under his roof, but he had no right to say anything. Sanosuke and Misao had a relationship he couldn't begin to understand.

His fist clenched in his pocket without his realizing it.

*-*-*-*

'Stupid Aoshi-sama. Stupid men. Stupid Sano. Stupid school… stupid stupid stupid,' Misao went on with her limited vocabulary. She knew all the curses from A-Z, thanks to big brother Sano, but used very few of them. Unfortunately, this was another side-effect of being a girl. Most swears she simply wasn't comfortable saying, and they felt foreign to her tongue. If not foreign, she found them distasteful altogether.

If she hadn't been born a girl, she wouldn't have to be here. She wouldn't have to have this stupid uniform, these stupid classes…

'Stupid feelings.'

*-*-*-*

Round Two of the Sagara World Wrestling Championship: Sanosuke versus the almighty carpet steamer. Okay, so maybe he was going a bit overboard with this whole cleaning business, but if he ever wanted to sleep in that room again, this just had to be done. The bed was actually made – he remembered to mark the date on his calendar – and his clothes were all put away or in the wash. Now he just had to figure out this new fangled contraption.

He wasn't a big fan of gadgets and things. Not trains, not elevators… wasn't a big fan of cameras either. The only person who could talk him into taking pictures was Misao.

'Misao,' he thought sullenly. He knew in his heart part of why he was doing this was for some sort of repentance… Maybe he would be able to sleep here with the smell, but not with the guilt. With that in mind, he went back to work.

*-*-*-*

Aoshi was about to rest a hand on her shoulder to slow her pace, Misao marching about in front of him. She obviously wasn't really caring where she was going for the time being, but he hadn't quite been paying attention either. Part of her must have realized that she couldn't loose him, but it didn't mean she couldn't try.

She had quickly turned a corner, and then there was a muffled … squeak? This caused Aoshi to stop and blink. Misao… squeaked? He poked his head around the corner, his brow creased at the sight before him.

*-*-*-*

Misao had run ram smack into a very large, very broad chest. Although she had only made contact with it with her forehead, she could easily make out that it was chiseled under that finely pressed dress shirt. She would have willed her forehead to recall more had it not been for the fact that her injury from this morning began pulsing. She muttered something relative to "ow," and slowly brought her gaze up to whomever she'd bumped into, as she felt large calloused hands encase her shoulders.

Misao looked up… and up… and up. The man was tall, and though he must have been older than Aoshi, he was still quite handsome. He had a long curtain of ebony locks that were tied at the base of his neck. Strangely, the long hair made him look anything but feminine. The only word she could think of, again with a limited vocabulary, was that he looked rugged. Even though he stood before her with a dress shirt and slacks, he was quite a fish to catch, that's for sure.

She reigned her hormones long enough to digest that he was talking. Correction, cursing. It was brief, and then he leaned down and spoke in a deep, yet almost patronizing tone, "You alright?"

*-*-*-*

A man came up behind her from around the corner, looking rather young to be her father. The so-called 'rugged' teacher looked back and forth between the two of them with barely a glance. Noting the murderous look in the other man's eyes, he withdrew his hands and safely rested them on either side of him. She looked like she'd seen the heavens themselves, and he looked like he saw the man who killed his first puppy, Spot.

"… d-daijobou ( I am / It is okay )," another blushing beauty to add to the notches in his belt. He was quite accustomed to this breathless reaction, though he remained stoic. When he nodded, responded by her bow, he chose to introduce himself.

"Watashi wa Kakunoshin Niitsu desu (I am Kakunoshin Niitsu). You're new, I take it?" The elder man was tempted to bother her companion further by returning his hand to her shoulder, if not just to wake her out of her stupor.

"Hai, she is," the other man had answered, causing the teacher to blink. Obviously her mouth wasn't working, so why not talk to the iceberg?

"Everybody calls me Hiko-sensei, you're welcome to as well…?" Without actually forming the question, Hiko was silently asking for a name or designation. (It just doesn't sound right to refer back to him as Mr. Hiko, bleh.)

*-*-*-*

"Why not 'Kakunoshin-sensei'?" Aoshi's animosity had let to leave him, obviously. He wouldn't introduce himself until he got some answers about what he just saw. This man looked anything but innocent, contrary to the virgin color of his shirt.

"It sounds cooler." At this, Aoshi's gaze narrowed, the other man just grinned. He didn't like being the butt of anyone's joke, especially not some cocky science teacher. Said teacher crossed his arms in front of his chest, obviously still waiting for someone to introduce themselves.

"Makimachi Misao," Aoshi couldn't help but noticed how quiet and timid her voice had been. It was like when she had said that it was alright for him to call her Misao. What the hell?!

  
"Makimachi-san," the elder man nodded to the young lady. So he looked good for his age, did that make him something special? Aoshi stepped up to stand next to Misao, toe to toe with this Seijuro person. Where had he heard that name before??... This man's hands being on Misao was just not settling well with Aoshi, particularly with his own history with school faculty. The men never broke their gaze, however. It was eerily stand-offish.

*-*-*-*

'This punk ain't answering my question… what the hell ever happened to respect?' Hiko's patience was being tried, although Misao's apparent appraisal was tempering him somewhat. The way to this man's heart was certainly through his ego. '…or sake.' Or sake.

"It is nearly time for the students and their guardians…" Hiko chose his words carefully, "… to go ahead to the next class." The other man simply nodded, and the educator of many names went ahead with his own business, rather bored now that he couldn't get a rise out of the other man. He suspected however, that they will meet again.

*-*-*-*

Aoshi suspected this was not the last time he would meet this "Kakunoshin Niitsu." His hand rested on the base of Misao's back, gently leading her away and to her next class. It wasn't quite explicable to why he had reacted the way he had, or why his blood pressure went up several knots… but he did realize, however, how utterly tempting it would be to rip this man apart had he found out that this Seijuro-sensei *ever* laid another finger on Misao again.

*-*-*-*

From one dream into the other, Misao slowly fluttered into the conscious realization that Aoshi's hand was possessively settled on her back, and that they were walking rather close. She was starting to feel faint, maybe because of the fact all the blood in her body had this habit of clotting around her cheeks.

*-*-*-*

In another part of the country, an innocent room was being bombed with mass quantities of Febreeze.


	22. Chapter 22 - Tutus and Toeshoes

Author's Note:

The physics teacher is Hiko Seijurou… or Seijurou Hiko, I'm not quite sure. I suspect, but I could be wrong, that Hiko is his last name. (But I just can't call him Mr. Hiko, or just plain Seijurou… that would just be weird, so he's Hiko-sensei, got it? ^_^;) The other name he introduced himself as was his alias in the series to hide his identity. Soujirou Seta is someone entirely different. (For the purposes of this story, Seta is Misao's boyfriend from high school… so there's kind of a huge difference. ^_^;)

===

The ballet room of the school was tucked away in a smaller building on the campus, along with the other dance and music classrooms. The floor was hardwood, and a railing lined the wall, and it looked like there were several free-standing ones lined up against the wall. The walls were mirrors, which made it just a tad creepy. If you weren't on your best behavior there was simply no way of *not* getting caught. For today, there were rows of folding chairs assembled, and the instructor stood in the forefront, giving an overview on what the class would entail and how to contact her.

Of course, neither Misao nor Aoshi seemed to care. Both were too engrossed in their own thoughts. Misao was wondering why she had chemistry instead of physics, and if it would be hard to transfer. Aoshi was wondering if the school had a history of molesting faculty, and if he could somehow use this to his advantage. He didn't like the look of that Seijuro character, if for no other reason than it seemed he had nothing better to do with his time than to fondle the shoulders of young girls. Of course, Aoshi couldn't have possibly been overreacting.

The instructor was handing out sheets of paper, much like some of the others… all with requirements for the course. Misao had expected this, and much to her pleasure, the word "tutu" was nowhere to be seen. If she had to have worn one, she would've drawn the line right then and there. What did surprise Misao was that the instructor had stopped, and stood over her, as if inspecting her like a fine grade meat. Aoshi seemed curious to what the teacher was doing as well, and hoped that this wouldn't be *another* one he'd have to worry about.

"Your hair, miss…" The ballet teacher bent down and gently took the tip of the dangling braid between her fingers, "… is too long."

*-*-*-*

Misao's eyebrow twitched. As a matter of fact, so did her fist. She managed to remain seated, as she ground out, "… pardon?"

"Well, I certainly cannot ask that you cut it… but it may be troublesome and get in the way…" The teacher obviously meant no offense, but some had been made. The woman, not too old herself, leaned back and stroked her chin. "… are you able to wrap it up into a bun or something?"

'Into a PASTRY?' Last thing she needed was to be teased in comparison to a food, it was bad enough that she was called a weasel. She was about to retort, when a hand rested onto her shoulder and a smooth clear voice rumbled beside her.

"I'm sure she'll manage, Ms. Myoujin."

*-*-*-*

As entertaining as all of this was, Aoshi could feel Misao slowly lose whatever self-control she had left. She wanted to hurt something, and hurt it *now*, and that just wouldn't do. The last thing he needed was for some tabloid to capture him with some rabid weasel girl on the rampage.

'Oh yes, Daddy would just love that,' the corner of his mind spat. In those terms, it was almost tempting to let her loose. The other part of his mind was concerned with other things… like failing at his task. Jiya had entrusted this girl to him, as he had so many years ago. In place of mere minutes, he would have to deal for the next year. Aoshi would have to endure, and what better time than the present.

"I'm sure she'll manage, Ms. Myoujin," or she'll damn well have to. Odds were, Jiya put her in ballet for a reason… perhaps because it was the closest thing to kempo in the whole curricula of the school. The self-defense classes were probably far below Misao's true potential, and it was becoming painfully evident by her run-ins with inanimate objects that she needed to fine tune her skills. Aoshi, if necessary, could still mentor her in kempo, but ballet could honestly work hand in hand. However, he wouldn't be caught dead in dance classes, and he highly doubted Sanosuke would either.

*-*-*-*

"Ah… AHH…" Pause. "AH-CHOO!.. Sonofa…" Sanosuke roughly wiped his nose on his sleeve as his nostrils filled with the overpowering fumes of "nature fresh scent." So his room was clean, amazingly enough. If he only had a camera, for it would never… ever be this clean again.

'…because I'm never pulling a stunt like THAT again, that's for sure…' He wasn't quite sure if he was thinking about one-night stands or one-night stands with Misao as a witness. Either way, something wasn't going to happen again, because he sure as hell didn't want to see a damn cleaning detergent, liquid, spray, or appliance for the rest of his godforsaken life. At least, if it wasn't a shower or a sink… those he could live with.

Frankly, the rest of the world would have to revoke his global citizenship if he decided to swear off bathing.

*-*-*-*

Aoshi didn't think ballet went as badly as it could have. Nothing was broken, bent, or needed to be replaced. He was hoping to leave this place with some shred of dignity. It didn't help that even the students looked at him like he was a piece of meat; it was the teachers that worsened the situation tenfold. Why was he here again?

The answer was sitting next to him in full pout. The etiquette teacher seemed to be running late. Misao was fingering the tip of her plait, slouched down in her chair. There was *some* modesty in her posture, or lack there of, as her knees were together… however, her heels were far apart, since her toes made a halfhearted attempt to face one another. She was grumbling something that sounded like a curse. She obviously didn't want to be here. Aoshi leaned back on his elbow on the back of his chair, lazily propping his heel onto his knee, glancing behind him to see if there was any sign of a teacher coming. They looked like a pair of bored teenagers… which would have only been half right.

Now they were both martial artists, however, neither of them (even Aoshi) saw what was coming next.

*-*-*-*

"SIT UP STRAIGHT!" a shrill cry came from their left, as a ruler cracked loudly onto the table. Aoshi didn't jolt, much, and straightened his posture neatly. Misao, on the other hand, was sitting stiffly and pale. Had he been willing to risk being yelled at again in front of an audience, he would've glanced over as the teacher mussed with Misao. "No, like this… and here, put this hand here… and cross your legs for pity's sake!"

Misao was trying to follow all the directions at once, almost tripping herself out of her chair. Once she got her act together, and vaguely resembled what the teacher wanted, the woman leaned back and looked over the younger one with a narrowed gaze.

"This just simply won't do, tsk tsk tsk…"  Misao pouted at her teacher's back as she walked to the front of the room. The other girls were stifling their giggles behind little daintily covered mouths, and snickering to one another at Misao's expense. A deep rumbling growl came from her throat, as she glared daggers at her educating adversary. "Young ladies!" The woman turned around to face them suddenly, clapping her hands together once. "Welcome to Eastern and Western Etiquette… some of you are here because you want to learn, and some are here because they need to be here…"

Aoshi didn't miss that the teacher stared right at Misao, nor did he miss the way she was suspiciously eyeing him as well. Hell, he wasn't a student; he didn't have to take this from her. However, he knew there was something odd about this particular teacher was strange, and he couldn't quite put his finger on why. His hands folded on the desk top, and he just couldn't shake this feeling that perhaps he knew her from somewhere. It was something, that's for sure.

"In this class we'll be studying…" and the rant started again, just like it had every other class. Neither Aoshi nor Misao were listening. Aoshi was still trying to place this woman, having as much difficult as Sano would with one of his trollops. Misao was trying to find a way to get away with throttling the woman.

She was beautiful, Aoshi had to admit honestly. Or at the very least, she was a looker. Her features were delicate, and her movement was graceful as though she were walking on a bed of rose petals and feared to muss a single one. Her hair was short, and framed her heart shaped face, and occasionally she had a feline-like quality cross her lips. Particularly, he saw this when she looked over in Aoshi's general direction. He then noticed, he was the only man in the room. Her laugh was soft and cheerful, and hidden politely behind a slender hand.

"Oh you must forgive *my* manners…" The girls shared a soft giggle, which was alright since the teacher was snickering as well. "I have yet to introduce myself… For the rest of your term here, you will be under the tutelage of no other than Honjou Kamatari." There was a collective "ah," with a couple awed "ooo"s.

*-*-*-*

Aoshi KNEW that name. This was getting very unsettling. First that… that SCIENCE teacher, and now this woman. He could only narrow it down to being several years ago, but he just couldn't figure where. There was just something so definitely familiar. He sat unphased as usual, but his consciousness was raping his mind right now to sort this all out. Maybe he *should* have let Sano come. This school was just… bizarre.

'He would've hit on her by now,' and that was the truth. Or she would've hit on him, in the same visual stripping she was giving him. Aoshi swallowed inconspicuously as she came closer. There was something almost frightening about her nearing proximity. Dammit what *was* it?

"Mister Shinomori. Did you have a question?" Ms. Honjou's eyebrow rose, her tongue gracing her ruby red lips, as she rested a hand on the desk in front of him, and she leaned closer to him to gaze at eye level. Had she been wearing something with more cleavage, he would've had quite the eyeful. But thankfully, she was wearing a tasteful off the shoulder canoe neck cashmere sweater. It was a soft lavender shade, draped over her hips over a plain black knee length skirt, with a single loose gold band that drifted off of her waist that Aoshi assumed was some sort of pseudo-belt. She didn't give Misao a second glance, only a muted breathless sigh escaped her lips towards Aoshi, although the younger girl next to him was about to explode.

The dynamite in question shot her hand up in the air, waving madly to be called on. The little firecracker was balling her other hand into a fist in her lap, her legs crossed almost painfully. Her thighs were flexing against one another to prevent herself from bolting up and getting in trouble… again. She'd totally switch this class for physics, most definitely.

Ms. Honjou seemed to ignore Misao for a solid minute. The entire class was engrossed in the interaction. Then as suddenly as she appeared before them, she turned away. The teacher's fingertips caressed the polished wood trim of the desk and then nodded to one of the girls across the room.

"That… ladies. Is *not* how you are to present yourself to men," she smiled coyly, soliciting more giggles from the girls in the class, or at least… from all of them except our pig-tailed TNT. Misao's face was turning red with fury, and her hand was still in the air, and being ignored. Ms. Honjou seemed to look around the whole class, inspecting everyone's disposition, carefully missing Misao. "Does anyone else have any questions?... anyone at all?"

Misao had just about had it with this lady. She was going to ship her to Mars in a body bag, yeah. Her normally happy shining eyes were narrowed and glinting with a murderous gaze, her teeth almost audibly grounding together. That small foot of hers had gotten into a habit of tapping rather obnoxiously on the floor, demanding the attention her mouth would not aloud.

"… oh. Yes. You there, with the braid," the teacher's voice was flat and condescending. Ms. Honjou looked not terribly amused and bored by the whole thing. 'The whole thing' was, of course, being Misao's entire existence in this classroom.

Misao's hand slowly drifted down to the desk, resting palm down. Her head was lowered, and a red aura could almost be seen flaming from her features. She was looking oddly subdued, and she took a deep cleansing breath. Her mouth opened again, her head raised to glare at the woman at the head of the classroom and as she was about to let herself loose—!

"Oh well! It looks like that's it for today!" Ms. Honjou clapped her hands again, and her face was smiling ear to ear. Misao's countenance cracked, and she looked dumbfounded for a bit, her mouth lagging open. Her head drooped to the side in some sense of defeat. Aoshi, intently watched the whole exchange, mostly to see if he could see some hint of why this woman was so familiar.

The rest of the class was ushered out by the teacher, who just before leaving, turned around and locked her gaze with Aoshi. For a brief moment there was no one else in the world except those two… Even the deadpanned Misao had blended into the background.

It was that next telling gesture that had done it… the mystery had then been cracked wide open.

Kamatari held up one hand, and it floated just an inch away from those red sultry lips, and then the middle and ring fingers folded down into that slender palm, tucking them from view. Aoshi, if possible, paled… he knew what was coming. There was no outward sign of fear, but there was a mental shiver that was coiling through his veins.

'No… way,' the color ran out of Misao's entire being. Ms. Honjou had just licked her pinky finger, her lips jumping the gap over to her pointer finger and blew a kiss at Aoshi off its tip. Had anyone in that room cared to notice or care, Misao's jaw hit the floor.

… Aoshi hadn't moved from his spot, and neither had Misao, though the teacher in question had disappeared. 'Oh shit.' He knew exactly where he knew Honjou Kamatari from. There was no mistaking it… no woman – no person made that gesture except for…

… his roommate from boarding school.

===

Author's Note:

I've been waiting to use that gesture, and Kamatari just seemed like the one to do it. *_* Arigatou Honjou-san. Anno, I seemed to have left Sano out this chapter, gomen nasai. ^_^;


	23. Chapter 23 - The Seventh Circle of Hell

No. He didn't like to remember those times. Those years he had spent in England.

And this had been one of the reasons why. Most memories, Aoshi harbored with him like anti-bodies of a deadly disease. This one person… Kamatari Honjou, however, he had blanked out entirely.

'I thought this was a CATHOLIC school…' Aoshi numbly walked through the hallway with a recovering Misao dragging her limbs behind her. She had to cradle her jaw to walk out the room, afraid she would break it if it hit the floor one more time that day. 'How could they allow an okami – unless… no, they'd *have* to know!' This was ridiculous. This was a mockery of the whole education system of Japan, of the whole wide world, even. Not only had the teacher in question cross-dressed in a religious institution, Kamatari had successfully gotten away with hitting on one of his student's guardians – with witnesses no less. The conduct… the blatant disregard for personal space, and any sexual harassment law ever put in place on this earth…

'That Honjou.' He'd also gotten away with looking really good in a skirt. The sinking feeling in Aoshi's stomach dragged him down into the seat in the next class, and grounded him there for quite a bit. He was slowly rolling over in his mind the number of times he inspected Honjou to figure him out. Kamatari had been a character back in school, but this… Aoshi was entirely blindsided. Worse off, Misao was in his class, and it didn't look like it was going to turn out pretty.

It wasn't that he had anything against people of that persuasion. He just didn't appreciate them to hit on him in front of the woman he… lived with. Who knows what kind of influence someone like Kamatari would have on Misao.

The image of Misao licking her pinky and blowing kisses at guys was not settling his nerves, not at all.

*-*-*-*

Misao hadn't yet gained her senses, and sort of drifted into her seat, like a lost boat somehow finding its way to port by some lucky star. No, she was more like a candy wrapper that the wind picked up and found itself in the proper trash receptacle seven feet away. Somehow, miraculously, she was in her next class.

This room was set up differently than the others. There were long counters that had two high stools at each 'station', each equipped with a countertop stove, oven, and drawers with labels listing all the items that were contained. The walls were lined with shelves with various bowls of all shapes and sizes, and pans and things. In a corner at the front of the room there was a cabinet with a paper sign taped onto it, "Aprons and Hairnets."

The young woman was only knocked out of her stupor when a strong hand brushed up against the side of her arm. Her head finally turned to notice her companion folding his arms on the counter top, staring off towards the front of the room. He wasn't paying attention to the teacher.

'At least not *this* teacher,' her lower lip poked out without her realizing it. Sure, Ms. Honjou was attractive, but hadn't he seen how he treated her? Misao knew this was going to be a rough transition, but she didn't realize she'd have to face seven different types of hell in the last twenty odd minutes. She was listing them off in her head… being caught off guard, being reprimanded on the first day of class… being utterly demeaned by some prissy flirtatious hussy skank who decided that Aoshi-sama was going to be her next conquest… Her blood began boiling as it had not too long ago. And what had he done about it?

'Nothing!' He sat there like the sword in the stone, and said absolutely nothing. No objection, no refusal… it was like he was… 'Masaka… He couldn't be… with… my TEACHER?!' This just won't do. Not that she was jealous or anything, '… because I'm not.'

Nope, she wasn't. She was just openly willing to execute a woman for looking at a man for too long. This man who made her hormones run six different ways and lived under her roof – er, well she lived under his… but that had absolutely nothing to do with anything, of course.

She was going to kill Jiya. All of this was his fault, after all.

*-*-*-*

'He can kill me for it later,' Sano sighed, leaning back in Aoshi's furu. It's not like his brother was home, and it's no good to let a good bath tub go to waste. He wasn't going to ask why Aoshi had a wide range of bath oils and things… there was just way too much gutter putter he could dredge up for that.

Sano sat back with his neck curled over the cool white porcelain rim of the bath, a damp warm towel draped over his forehead. He hadn't turned on the fan, so the entire room was foggy with a steaming haze. He liked it better this way. When he was like this… enveloped in warmth, he felt so at ease. It felt like home.

Home to him wasn't really a place. It was just a feeling he had way down deep that he never got the courage to mutter. Nothing mattered there, and everything was alright. There was no past, and no nagging concerns for the future. It was just a calm vacant existence. Peace.

It's where he went when he didn't know what to do, or when he had nowhere else to go. He couldn't call his friends and be like, "Hey, I need to have a heart to heart with someone…" or some soapy opera crap like that. The only person he ever really told things like this to was… well, Misao, who currently was not an option. She was his one and only… imouto-chan. He sighed and let himself sink under the water till it brimmed just below his nostrils.

'At ease, General,' He scowled into the bath water. Rolling his eyes to a close, he slipped his head under the steaming bathwater.

His home was with Aoshi now.

*-*-*-*

Misao was watching Aoshi like a hawk. Part of the reason being, she was checking out how he reacted with this teacher. First he had total animosity for that rather delicious – er, intellectual. Then there was the mini-episode where he kept her from blowing her top at the ballet teacher… that had been the most Aoshi-ish thing he'd done since the break between classes. And now he was cavorting with the enemy.

Honjou Kamatari had just made Misao's shit list, that's for sure.

*-*-*-*

Aoshi was a cat. Or at least, he had to be. This was going to be his third death today.

'This. Cannot. Be. Happening.'

The only sign that he was about to thrice meet the grim reaper was the fact that he didn't blink as a woman, and her daughter made their way into the room, bumbling apologies for tardiness. His mind had shut down for that brief moment as the pair brushed passed their station to occupy the empty one behind them.

'Sanjou.' Aoshi idly wondered when he was going to wake up from this nightmare.

===

Author's Note:

This was for those who were wondering why I included the "firsts" interludes so randomly. ^_^;; Originally it was because I had hit writer's block… and then I thought up Aoshi's, and didn't feel write publishing his without doing Sano's as well. If Aoshi was OOC, I'm sorry, I can't really picture the original Aoshi reacting to any of this… just bear in mind, none of his reactions were outward. He's our boy with the inner turmoil. ^_~


	24. Chapter 24 - Home is Where...

Aoshi did his best to blend into the wall. He was standing outside of St. Catharine's now, waiting for Misao. The young woman had excused herself to go to the bathroom, and he told her he'd wait outside. She, of course, had no reason to question. He thanked the gods for that.

What the hell was that woman doing here? And she had brought her daughter no less. Tsubame was going to be Misao's classmate. Obviously, his life hadn't been enough hell as it went thus far, that the powers that be had to make it *that* much more painstaking. There must have been some sin he'd committed by simply being born.

Most men, he supposed, held a soft spot for their 'first.' Or, at the very least, they got hard up. Aoshi, on the other hand, had no such notions running through his head. The only thing he wanted to do now was get the hell away from that place as soon as humanly possible. He hadn't known fear for many years, and this wasn't it. It just happened that the entire campus was an erected shrine to his torment, and given the option, he did not want to be there.

It couldn't get worse – oh wait, no… it could.

He could smell her perfume as it slowly drifted around the corner. Her footsteps were nearing, not alone, no. She had her daughter with her, of course. Absentmindedly, he'd also noted the absence of a ring on her finger. 'No surprises there.' Aoshi buried his hands into his pockets, leaning casually against the wall, as though at ease with the world. One leg seemed lazily crossed over the other, and of course he would pretend he hadn't noticed her coming. Of course he wouldn't notice the way she gasped, and stopped.

Could he have ever forgotten the way her eyes traveled his body as they had so many years ago? He could nearly hear Tsubame's brow knit. She must have known by now. When the whole "fiasco" had gone down, and the reputable Ms. Sanjou had been revealed to the school board by a scorned colleague, Tsubame had been far too young to understand. Sometimes, even now, Aoshi couldn't comprehend what happened after that.

'She's Misao's age,' he turned his head, as if just noticing that the rest of the world existed. He straightened, and bowed cordially to the pair+. She would've been eight years old when her mother's career bit the dust. His teeth bit down, as if he were trapping his emotions behind an iron clad jaw. Tsubame looked well, for this he was thankful. No child was born into the world deserving a useless mother.

If he hadn't, then this innocent girl couldn't have.

*-*-*-*

She had recognized him instantly. Her mother had, she knew. When Tsubame looked at her mother, walking hand in hand, she saw the way her skin had paled. Her smile was forced, and her fingers trembled. Tsubame was quiet, and said nothing.

It had been so long ago, but everything had to come full circle.

Strangely, even though she had to witness to a messy divorce, sloppy custody battles… Their family even had to move to stop them from being hassled by tabloids and the press. Between the ages of eight and ten, she'd switched to two – no, three different schools. All of the other kids knew, because all of their parents knew. Everyone knew.

Tsubame, however, was surprisingly at peace. It had always been made clear to her that this was her mother's problem, and honestly had nothing to do with her. She hadn't been a bad daughter, nor some long forsaken accident. There was no hate for her mother when it came to the rotary door she held on relationships, or for the constant harassment of photographers climbing over the fences of their home. She did not hate her mother for the embarrassment of being the child of a convicted pedophile. No, Tsubame did not hate her mother for any of these things.

There was only one reason she hated her mother.

Her own mother, flesh and blood, had stolen her first love. And like in all the fairytales, as fractured as they became in reality, there he stood.

*-*-*-*

"Tsubame-chan," his smooth voice greeted the younger girl steadily. His gaze fell upon Ms. Sanjou like a blind man who had lost his dark glasses. Aoshi saw right through her as he had when he was a child.

"Aoshi-senpai, ohayo…" Tsubame bowed as well, for he still managed to make her blush. There were no bad feelings between Aoshi and Tsubame, for if anything, they had more in common than most people in this world. However, the mother was another story. It was a silent contract of understanding that was written the last time they had seen each other all those many years ago.

"It has been a long time, Aoshi," her lack of formality struck him, like he wanted to strike her. How dare she…

"Aa. You've grown beautifully, Tsubame-chan," he regarded her with a slight nod. Aoshi didn't make it a habit of crawling under people's skin for spite, but for some reason it felt like sport with this woman. Perhaps, if all those years ago, she hadn't seen him for more than skin, he wouldn't have been compelled to treat her less than dirt. He almost wanted to smile the way Tsubame's mother opened her mouth to speak, but it seemed to fail her. The way her eyes flared with brief anger, and then drowned in defeat, well, if he were a dancer, he might just have done so now.

"… A-arigato gozaimasu, Aoshi-senpai!" The young girl sputtered, smiling sheepishly. She, too, was in the uniform of the school; her hair was neatly cut just beneath her chin. A quite voice crept over his shoulder from the abandoned woman.

*-*-*-*

"… Ohayo, Shinomori-san." That was better, and she must've realized this when he actually regarded her this time. He obviously wasn't going to make this easy, least of all, on her. Taking a deep breath, she wondered if her psychiatrist was free later today.

"Sanjou-san. You're not here to teach, I take it?" His voice rose and fell as if he were just like any man, who expressed feelings and emotions. It was almost patronizing. He knew as well as she that she could never teach or counsel ever again. Her reputation had been marred beyond repair, when more than two dozen different accounts had been found by the media. They didn't care if not all of them were true or not, just that they had something to publish. She would never stop paying, never. She could see it in his unseeing eyes.

"No, I'm afraid not," she kept her smile up for those agonizing couple of seconds where she paused, "Tsubame-chan has been attending St. Catharine's for most of high school, haven't you sweetie?"

Tsubame nodded as her mother's hand fell upon her shoulder, "It's a very nice school… The girl you came with, she's new, ne? I'm sure she'll get used to it…"

*-*-*-*

Misao rounded the corner, almost smacking into the back of some woman who was talking to Aoshi. Hey, it was that girl who was sitting behind them in Home Ec. They knew Aoshi, too?! Her eyes narrowed automatically, as her hands fisted over the grips on her backpack. Her shit list was booting up on the forefront of her mind, and her nerves were tapping at her keyboard of anxieties ready to input…

"… she's new, ne? I'm sure she'll get used to it…" The pigtailed girl suddenly shrank back sheepishly. It had been that obvious, huh?

'Get used to it. Sure. My female teachers hitting on Aoshi-sama… Aoshi-sama threatening my male teachers… yep, just everyday stuff in the world of Makimachi Misao…' Her mental banter was cut off by his voice.

"Ready?" She nodded dumbly, since he was looking right at her. She failed to notice when the divinities above decided the universe would become Misao-centric. Aoshi only nodded in reply, he brushed past the two ladies in front of Misao, and walked ahead. Misao was left with two strange women looking after Aoshi's retreating back, and then they focused on her. Not knowing what else to do, she just bowed and went after Aoshi. His long legs had this odd tendency of leaving her behind. On that note…

'… he is some piece of work…' Misao's head snapped up from ogling Aoshi's rear when he turned the corner. Surprisingly, she remained quiet. Not because of lack of questions, but the poor girl didn't know where to start. It wasn't any mystery to why Aoshi seemed to attract so much attention, but it was a problem when it interfered with her academic career. Or, at least, this is what she told herself, reasoning her fury. 

They'd been walking for quite a few blocks, crossing a couple of streets before she realized something.

This was definitely *not* the way home.


	25. Chapter 25 - Secretaries and Starbucks D...

Aoshi-sama was acting weird. Well, if weird meant looking and acting exactly the same as normal and yet… There was just something that was different. It wasn't in a good way, either. Misao wondered if it was because he couldn't very well find time in his busy schedule for all the various 'appointments' he would be making with *her* teachers.

'There has to be some rule against it, SOMETHING…' her hands clutched tightly over the straps of her backpack, as she weaved through people trying to keep her eye on the target above the crowd. Aoshi easily towered over most people, including herself, but he obviously had forgotten about her or something because he was steadily leaving her behind. It wasn't until he had been able to cross a street without her, leaving her alone on the curb did she call to him.

*-*-*-*

"Aoshi-sama…!!" The girl cried out from far behind. 'Far behind?' Aoshi stepped up onto the curb on the other end of the street and finally turned around. And there was Misao. Her lower lip was poking out in a pout, while her cerulean eyes were slightly widened. There was almost the slight glint of desperation with the promise of tears, as her gaze cast left and then right. She didn't know where she was; let alone where he was taking her. 'But she followed me anyway…'

As tiny chords began squeezing around that funny blood pumping organ that dwelled in his chest, he stood waiting for the light to change and for Misao to catch up. He had been too wrapped up in his thoughts to recall the fact that Misao was new to the city, and had little if any idea what was going on in his head. Somehow, some part of him just trusted her to know that he knew what he was doing. Or at least, when he thought he did, anyway.

The light changed, and Misao was up at the front of those crossing, her pigtail bobbing from side to side as she nearly jogged across the street to meet up with him. Aoshi felt like he was going to disappear of existence any minute the way she kept an eye on him. It was strange. And here he was supposed to be taking care of her.

Those chords struck him again, and deeply. The notion of failure began to float to the surface. Failure to guard, to protect, to care for… for her. And well, for Sanosuke, too. He was batting zero for two right now, as it seemed, and something… someone had to give. As for the moment, past was past. Aoshi forced himself to focus.

When they began walking again, Aoshi made it a point to stay within arms' reach of Misao at all times. Since he'd finally woken up to the rest of the world, he noticed the roaming eyes that somehow seemed to find their way to the young lady with him. Accustomed to the unwelcome attentions, he could just blank them out of his mind. However, when it concerned a… seventeen? Eighteen-year-old young woman that was in his care, that was an entirely different story.

As they finally turned into a building, a magnificent looking one at that, images of Hiko-sensei crept into his mind. If the doors weren't automatic, his cold glare would've scared them open.

*-*-*-*

She was standing in the middle of what could very well be one of the most beautiful buildings she'd ever seen in her life. Everything was eerily immaculate. Misao stumbled around in circles, trying to see everything at once, promptly knocking head first into Aoshi's muscled back.

Almost afraid to look up, her gaze remained on the floor, two of her slender fingertips brushing over that ever abused injured forehead. At least this object wasn't inanimate.

'Coulda fooled me,' Misao cursed in the back of her mind. He had yet to say anything. Where the heck were they anyway? Aoshi had stopped at least, and he wasn't leaving her behind as he had before. Behind those cobalt eyes, she wondered what the hell he was thinking sometimes. A strong finger poked her chin, turning her head ot the side. There was a large plaque, gold and embossed.

"… Shinomori Networking and Organization Workgroup?" her voice was slow and calculating, since the words were so foreign when she read them aloud. There was a gust of warmth that brushed over her bangs… a sigh?

*-*-*-*

"Shin…"

"Shinomori."

"Shiiiin…ahh…"

"Shinomori, Misao-chan. Shin… oh… more… ee…" Aoshi tried to make his mouth move slowly so she could mimic him, but it was useless. Her attention span just could not handle words over three syllables.

"How come ya'got sucha' big name, Aoshi-nii'?" The child in his lap dunked the bubble wand down into the solution, swirling it about. Finally drawing it out, she held her breath, and tiny soapy bubbles briefly filled the air in front of them and drifted with the breeze.

"It is my father's name," Aoshi's tone was flat, not that it ever was much else. He kept his voice as even as possible, mostly to prevent it from cracking. It was just far too humiliating, especially since the child in his lap had this odd tendency to worsen his embarrassment by laughing her giddy head off.

"… Jiya?" Of course, that would be the only father she might have known of. She peeked over her shoulder, searching for confirmation. A pout formed on those small lips when he shook his head negatively.

"No, Jiya is my grandfather…" and he was promptly interrupted, and he was becoming quite accustomed to this. Surprisingly, his tolerance had grown for children, particularly this one.

"Jiya grand! Jiya grand!" The girl almost spilled all of her bubble solution into both of their laps, so Aoshi gently took the bottle away and set it aside. "Aoshi-nii' gonna train with Jiya today?" Aoshi simply nodded. "Can Misao-chan train too?"

Her eyes were bright, and wide. Those small hands, chubby and stubby, pressed up against his chest. Eager, and waiting for a "yes". Misao didn't look like she had an interest in just any answer. No, she wanted a "yes." Fortunately, thanks to his dear old dad, he had become quite a good liar.

"Of course, Misao-" he didn't even finish his sentence when she darted out of his lap, no doubt, in search of his dear old grandpapa. Let him be the one to say no to those clear blues. 'Hah.'

He almost smiled. Almost.

*-*-*-*

"What are we doing here Aoshi-sama?"

"I have to go check on my doodles," he turned swiftly walking to the elevators, and it took a full solid minute for Misao to register that Aoshi – Shinomori Aoshi – had just made a joke.

Once they were in the elevator, Misao attempted to subject Aoshi to the meanest glare she could possibly muster. However, her supple lips had a habit of betraying her by forming a girlish pout. He was teasing her again. The sudden jolt of the elevator taking its rise shook her from her reverence. Her footing slipped, and she grasped onto the railing, and then felt her cheeks burning as he just rose a single eyebrow at her. Sheepishly, she straightened herself back up, and waited for them to reach their floor.

The numbers just seemed to keep climbing. She had never been a building this tall before, at least she couldn't remember… It was curious how these high-speed elevators worked – the elevator and the numbers it flashed never seemed to stay in sync… one always had to catch up with the other. The elevator jolted again, but she had been ready and braced for it. The fourty-seventh floor.

When the stepped out, she was facing a large information desk, which had two busy body secretaries answering calls into their headsets. There it was again, "Shinomori Networking and Organization Workgroup." It sounded so … official.

'Snow. It spells "snow,"' Misao concluded in her mind, as she stepped off the elevator without really thinking about having done so. A smirk almost crawled onto her lips, thinking that something about coldness seemed to follow Aoshi around like the plague. 'Too bad it couldn't spell "icicle."'

The aforementioned walking solid water was standing beside her, in front of the desk with the two ladies. They seemed nice enough. Noticing it briefly, Misao would've guessed they may have been related somehow. One of the ladies signaled to the other, and a handful of buttons were pushed on either end, and the same woman pulled off her headset and smiled at Aoshi. '*Another* one????'

"Shinomori-san," she bowed in her seat, and stood up when the gesture was returned. Her smile brightened as her eyes fell upon Misao. "Kawaiiii!" Misao winced at the shrillness that always somehow seemed to accompany the word. "You must be the 'Misao-chan' that Shinomori-san told us about…!"

At this, the girl just blinked. 'He… talks about me?' She glanced at him sidelong, and found that he was already turning to walk away. The lady that had greeted them was moving around her desk and ushering Misao to follow. She couldn't exactly decline, could she?

"Ne, may I call you Misao-chan, too? It's so cute!" The woman practically gushed, making the younger one blush. They were walking side by side behind Aoshi, and Misao found it hard to focus on what the woman was saying over stealing glances at the rather nice posterior in front of her. "I'm Omasu… I work as one of the secretaries in this office…"

Misao managed to nod at that, bowing slightly with her hand behind her head. The woman, to say the least, was full of energy. Curious phenomenon, considering she would sit behind a desk eight to nine hours a day. The notion nearly made Misao's skin crawl… she *never* wanted a desk job if she could avoid it.

*-*-*-*

Aoshi opened the door to his office, welcomed by the golden plaque with his name engraved. One of the reasons he didn't like coming to the office was for this exact reason: his name was everywhere. His, as in his father's. His father's name was everywhere, even nailed onto him. Thanks to technology, he rarely had to actually be there, so he could enjoy other and more important things.

None of which he could really list at the moment, but that was beside the point.

On top of his desk were arranged several packages, as he approached them, he popped one of them open with barely the flick of his wrist. There were eyes on his back, had been since he walked in. Omasu's voice was filling the air, which wasn't unusual, he had just become accustomed to it being Misao's voice instead. Although, that was a recent development. Then he paused, looking down at something he had withdrawn from the box. Raising an eyebrow in question, he glanced at Omasu, who had caught up and stood beside him with Misao.

"I took the liberty of getting Misao-chan, here, a nice little character for her cell phone…" The woman beamed, practically gushing with misplaced maternal warmth. Aoshi was tempted to roll his eyes, instead nodding at her following 'explanation': "… to make sure she doesn't mix it up with Sano-san's."

'Right… the face plates didn't *quite* cut that bill,' Aoshi thought, as his lips pressed together in silence. The cell phone in his hand was wearing a baby blue shell. Turning on the new cell in his hand, watching as a little panda appeared as a welcome, followed by the phone number, he quickly took note of it and handed the phone to Misao. Whipping out his own phone from his pocket, his fingers worked at amazing speeds to program it in. Having a cell phone as a primary means of contact with the outside world seemed to make fingers work at amazing speeds on buttons of amazingly microscopic size.

*-*-*-*

Looking at the cell that was now in her hand, she compared it with Aoshi's. It didn't flip up like his did, but yes, it was cute. It was a nifty little Motorola, which had a baby blue jacket pulled onto it. There was a tiny panda dangling from the antenna, that even had it's own little bell. Misao didn't know quite what to make of it at first, just that, well, it made sense to have one.

Finding her way to flop into a leather armchair facing the desk, she started playing with her new toy. In Kyoto, she hadn't really needed a cell phone, at least she didn't think so. Sure, everybody and their mothers' sisters' cousins' pets had them, but Misao wasn't really big on being found all the time. It wasn't as though she went out late nights partying and all that. It was Sanosuke who needed a cell phone more than she…

Just then, she came across his entry in her phonebook. Wow, this Omasu woman thought of *everything*. Probably every phone number of every place Aoshi could possibly *ever* be was programmed, and here was Sano. Sano-niichan.

'Out of sight, out of mind, out of sight, out of mind, out of sight…' Misao went into a tiny mantra, briefly closing her eyes, as she started having rather painful flashbacks. Whatever else was going on in the room was totally lost to her, since all she heard were the moaning of a man and woman in heated intoxicated passion.

*-*-*-*

He only glanced when he saw Misao sit down in the corner of his eyes. She seemed quite enraptured in this new fangled doodad. Just for good measure, Aoshi felt compelled to peek at Sano's cell phone. He was honestly afraid of what Omasu could've tried to slip in on this one. There was almost a sigh of relief. Just a black jacket, but no bells and whistles… literally speaking.

"Arigatou." He was gratefully, truly. Omasu always gave one hundred and ten percent, even if she was a little off the wall. Between her and Okon, he didn't know who drank more coffee. It was a bad idea to accept that sponsorship from Starbucks. Ever since, every floor was heavily stocked with at least a dozen varieties, which the secretaries have probably all tried in several grandiose quantities. Something about the whole coffee thing was just sick, really.

The woman cheerfully bowed, and excused herself, going to scurry out of the office. Aoshi, with his back to Misao, and facing his faint reflection in the window, *then* rolled his eyes. Omasu had just come in to see if Misao approved of the panda bell… thing.

School had let out just around noon, and it was nearly almost half past. Aoshi made sure to program Sano's phone number as well, particularly his. There will be no absence from the dinner table without calling ahead.

'Now I *sound* like a parent,' he cursed at himself. Swiping his hand quickly over his eyes, he brushed his bangs aside, turning his attention back to Misao.

The girl was currently lost in some bizarre cloud of melancholy. These hormones must be tricky things, and Aoshi knew how they worked on men, but girls – young women, were a different story.

"Misao-chan?" he ventured quietly. Nothing. He doubted she even noticed that Omasu left, let alone that she had said goodbye. Her once clear gaze was shadowed and dull, seeing but not seeing. They strangely looked like how he knew his to be. This just wouldn't do. "… Misao-chan."

The girl closed her eyes briefly, and then went back to how she had been. What was going on in that girl's head? 'Note to self: not just a girl…' Thanks to his brother, and life in boarding school, Aoshi knew many a choice curse word, and they began to run on loop in his mind. He was not made for this, he wasn't good with this, he couldn't handle this…

But none of this showed. He was having flashbacks to dealing with Misao as a child, memories that had been shrouded with the torments of age and the toils of life. The paper cuts, the scrapes, the bumps, the bruises, the burns, and of course just about everything and anything the child had been able to get her hands into, she had done it. Each time, it was the same panic, the same fear of failure and of weakness that shook his being.

The same feeling he had when his mother first left. He always wondered how he had managed to fail at being a son without knowing it was a task to be executed.

Swallowing slowly, inaudibly, burying the memories down in his gullet for the time being, he squatted down in front of Misao. His eyes were fixed on hers, his hands curled into the leather of the arms of the chair.

*-*-*-*

"Misao."

She blinked. Her head shook itself from side to side slightly, as if to wake herself up from a trance. Taking a breath, she tried to find her voice.

And failed, promptly trying again. "… h-hai Aoshi-sama?"

His features seemed to soften. 'It's just the light,' she silently told herself. Aoshi could make her heart leap, and her sensitive parts tingle, but she knew he wasn't one to show emotion. Had she not been so busy trying to recover some ounce of dignity, she might have pondered about that a little longer.

"Daijobou desu ka? (Are you alright?)" His tone was clear, and serious. And annoyingly attractive.

'Stupid hormones, down I say! Back!' Taming the chemical lions in her person was not one of her greater talents. They apparently decided to all round up in her face, causing her to blush madly. 'Stop acting like a giddy bloody school girl! … Even if you are a giddy bloody school girl!' When had he gotten so close? And … didn't he say something?

"… daijobou desu ka?" he asked again, his tone softer than before. He looked… genuinely concerned. His face didn't show it. None of his features did. But there was a flicker in his eyes, which had Misao's hands wrenching around her innocent cell phone. Good thing she'd been staring or she might've missed it.

"… genki desu! (I'm great!)" Her blush deepened when she realized how embarrassingly loud she'd been by blurting that out. It's hard not to be great when a man this good looking is that close… It was then Misao realized just how close, when she could easily smell his cologne. It wasn't really cologne really, it was… soap?

'Ohmygodohmygodohmygod…' Her foot started quivering over the floor, in a rapid nervous twitch. Aoshi had backed up a little, as if considering her answer. She hadn't lied, entirely. At that moment she had been great. Now had he asked her if she was alright a minute before he asked the question…Misao's eyes widened as she watched his hand reach for her.

It was as if the entire world decided to go Matrix style, and everything else had just stopped. It was just his hand moving, and it was slowly lifting off the chair, she could hear the leather kiss his skin goodbye as it fled… The filtered recycled air from the vents was displaced around those strong digits, as they curved, and they drew closer… The gentle fragrance of some soap, whose name didn't matter, drifted into her senses like a new breath of life. It was mixed with the smell of man, this man. The warmth of his skin drew nearer, and suddenly…

Her cell phone rang. And like that, he was gone.

*-*-*-*

Aoshi had stepped away from her, watching as she clumsily juggled the cell from one hand to the other. While the phone was singing "TANK!", Aoshi silently sighed. 'Omasu…' And then it took another chorus for Misao to figure out how to answer the spastic thing. When he saw she had it under control, somewhat, he moved to sit behind his desk. Each step he took was another deep cleansing breath.

He had convinced himself that there had been something seriously wrong with Misao. That he had been reaching for her to check her temperature, and that was all. There was a fear he hadn't felt in… quite some time. At least before her and Sano had arrived. All the tasks he was given, all the things he had to do, he knew he could do. Without question, without pretense, he could do what he had to better than anyone else could. But he knew, in his heart of hearts, that this could never be so easy. This day forward, it would never be so easy.

Aoshi couldn't fail at this. He couldn't fail them, and he wouldn't fail her. That was what he promised himself at that moment when Omsau's voice came blaring loud enough for him to hear across the room…

"I WAS JUST CHECKING TO SEE IF IT WORKED! KAWAII DESU NE?"

===

Author's Note:

::spanks her hand:: MOU! Shame on me for writing such a long chapter! … My chapter lengths have gotten tres weird… I'm taking out the ASCII all together… mostly because they throw off the chapter numbering system, and I'm *deathly* afraid of uploading the wrong chapter.

For those of you wondering how you can do it, in case you want to steal my idea (har har), you can download a program from cnet.com. Just search for ASCII, and something should come up. ^_^


	26. Chapter 26 - Got Ritalin?

Author's Note:

I'm still recovering from my stupid stupid mistake with the uploading… mostly because *NOW* I decide to see the "Remove Story" option that would've made my life easier. Deleting twenty something odd chapters one at a time is NOT fun. Also I *now* think of ways I could've avoided that altogether and not lost my reviews. Speaking of reviews, feel free to make some any time now. (Hint hint.) I'm also on the hunt for fanart, if anybody is magically inspired or knows anybody who would be. ^_^; I need material so I can make a website dedicated to the fic, so that I can have it on my page for an alternative for readers when fanfiction.net is down… sound good?

===

It was nearly quarter to one, and lunch had turned out to be a meager footnote of that horrific day. It was surprising, to Misao at least, how fast a meal could go by when no one talked. There was a brief interaction where Aoshi showed Misao how to change her ringer settings. Although she decided to keep the Cowboy Bebop theme song as the ringing tone, she brought the volume *way* down. She would have to remember to put it on silent during classes though.

They had packed away all of the cell phone goodies in Misao's mostly empty backpack, which Aoshi offered to carry. Of course that made her blush, but he was a gentleman after all, it's just what he does, she figured. He probably wouldn't have done so had he known how much he would be forced to carry later.

*-*-*-*

There was a clearing through the steamy fog of the bathroom, revealing a debonair sample of masculinity. The image would have been perfect, had this particular man not been busy clipping the hair in his nostrils. With a snort, and wiping his nose with the back of his hand, he returned all of Aoshi's personal things into mismatched places deciding perhaps he'd put off dressing for long enough.

His stomach needed food indefinitely. And the apartment was disgustingly spotless. Sagara Sanosuke felt like a mother hen.

'When the fuck did I become fucking house ma'rm?!' he gritted his teeth, rubbing a towel into his hair. Most of the rest of him was already dry, but those unruly locks trapped pockets of water beneath their spikes. Was it going to be like this for the next two weeks until classes started? It was half past noon, which seemed like a good a time as any to go grab a bite.

'Where was that… Aka-whatsit place again?' His stomach was calling for good food. Last night, he hadn't had good food. There had been really good drinks, but there hadn't been enough food. There *was* food, but the stinging taste of liquor numbed his taste buds after about the thirteenth shot, so even if it was good, he couldn't appreciate the… well, goodness.

There was a rumbling down below. Yes. He needed goodness.

*-*-*-*

Sano really hadn't remembered where the place was exactly, but he had a general idea. It helped that he saw that same woman cook from before entering a casual looking restaurant… Sukiyaki was the specialty, but they served other Japanese dishes, as well as a few western recipes scattered about. However, Sagara Sanosuke was not in the mood for fries and a Big Mac. He had a brief little silent monologue with his organs, telling certain ones to behave especially since the waitresses in their cute little uniforms… and they're really long slender legs… the tiny little aprons on short little skirts… 'BEHAVE!' he told his hormones desperately. He telegraphed the other organs with soothingly soft assurances that they will be served soon.

Sekihara Tae seemed to be playing hostess tonight, and recognized Sanosuke immediately. Well, after all, she'd seen him topless, and that was *not* a body you forgot so easily.

"Just you Sagara-san?" she tilted her head curiously, grabbing a single menu and ushering him to a table. Surprisingly, he had the great luck of not having to wait for a seat even though it was just about that universal time for lunch. She gave him a smile, and he dazzled her with one in return, causing her to blush and giggled behind her hand. He winked at her as he graciously accepted the menu from her hands. "Oh Sagara-san! You're such a character!" … she questioned exactly how the heck this guy was related to Aoshi. "Your waitress will be here in a moment, and I hope you enjoy your meal…"

"How could I not with such beautiful women all over the place?" He grinned as she blushed and giggled again, waving her hand at him dismissively, "… c'mon, where'd you misplace your wings, sweetheart?" There was just no stopping it, it was just his nature. Sano had to flirt. It was just his way, and the ladies sure didn't seem to mind. This was perfect. The perfect distraction for now, just as long as his stomach was the organ in charge and not his mind or… well. Y'know.

"I have to go and greet other customers, please enjoy your meal…" glancing over her shoulder, to see which waitress had this section, she paused. Looking back at Sano, she had an oddly serious face. "Ne… you have one of our new waitresses, please go easy on her… onegai? (please?)"

Peeking to where Tae had been looking, seeing a girl who could be older than Misao… short brown hair, in those cute little waitress uniforms. Sure, this was going to be hard. But… The Akabeko had been good to him, his stomach reminded him. So he'll grant this one wish.

Well, to the best of his ability, anyway.

They nodded to one another in farewell, and the girl who was serving shuffled over. She was hugging a tray to her chest, and smiling shyly. Bowing at the waist, she introduced herself, "Ohayou… Welcome to the Akabeko, I'm your waitress, Sanjou Tsubame, would you like anything to drink?" It wasn't until she finished speaking that she looked up.

Sanosuke couldn't help but smile, this girl… Tsubame, was it? The devil on his shoulder grinned. Then he vaguely remembered his earlier observation that she couldn't be much older than Misao. Men, women, sex, courting, flirting… Click, click, click… In seconds, his mind was back in action, recalling the moment that Aoshi drew a bull's eye on his own forehead.

_"You've slept with younger than her."_

Snapping back to reality, he tucked his head into his menu… scanning it intently, as though it was the lost gospels or something. Then he promptly turned it right-side up.

"Anno… should I come back…?" Her voice almost trembled. And they had picked this shy little thing to be a waitress… *why*? Sano considered her in the corner of his eye.

'She's too cute *not* to be in that uniform,' he almost groaned at his own observation. Ever since that morning when he went into Misao's… *things*… "Tea'll be good, thanks." Sano didn't give himself a chance to think about his response, otherwise he might've slipped up and said something along the lines of, "Hey, you look about my sister's age… are you on birth control?" … no that would not have gone over well. Images of Misao in that short little uniform flashed in his brain, and then of her in her school uniform… and then somewhere out of the blue, she was in a nurses' outfit… and then a itsy bitsy teeny weeny yellow-polka-dot bikini … the bunny suit, ears, tail, and all was up next…

Patrons blinked and tried not to stare at the man trying to pummel his skull with an innocent menu.

*-*-*-*

Aoshi suspected *something* had to happen on the way home. The last hour or so had just been too calm… too good. However, this was not what he expected.

Nothing was what he expected anymore.

But, this just about took the cake. The birth control thing would've come up eventually, he reasoned, along with the foreboding P.M.S… internally shuddering, he continued his logic. Sano was bound to bring some girl(s) home, because that's just how he was. However, this was not part of the deal. He looked down at the bags he had, two shopping bags in each hand. Glancing over the girl beside him, he was giving himself the third degree of why he had said "yes" to all of this.

Watching as she cradled the small puppy, whose eyes gleamed with happiness almost as much as her own, he knew the answer.

Because he could have never have said "no."

*-*-*-*

Misao never thought that she could be taken down by a five-pound fur ball. She recalled a flash of yellow suddenly shrouding her face in darkness. There were a couple of yips and could-be barks, but no scream. Frankly, there was no time to scream. Now that she was wearing a fluffy face shield, she no longer had the option. No time to scream, squeak… or even "eep!" There was no time to register the strong arms that were cradling her as she had been thrown back so violently. There hadn't been a second to savor being enveloped by the warmth of calloused hands curling over her shoulders to steady her, or the sensations that would have normally sent thrills down her spine when his breath rustled her hair.

Those same heavy hands were what freed her from the obstruction of her sight. Aoshi was holding a yellow Labrador puppy by its cuff, and it was still close enough to shower Misao's face with sloppy lapping kisses. Instantly her shock melted to joy at the sight, and then she had her second to squeal. With bright blue eyes she turned her eyes back to look up at Aoshi, who was examining the pup. He was probably wondering how a five-pound fur ball was able to take her down, too. After all, she'd made it a hobby of throwing Sano about, and he *at least* double her size.

Then a horrible stench of strong tobacco poisoned her nose, and she suddenly wanted to wretch. A cloud of smoke filled the air in front of her face, and the poor puppy couldn't handle the sudden intake in its tiny lungs and started hacking feebly.

"Hand over the mutt," a gruff voice said flatly. Aoshi looked over the pup, turning him around in his hand. He even sat the little thing in the palm of his hand where it stayed obediently, waggling its tail and flashed him a panting smile.

"This is a pure bred," Aoshi stated matter of factly.

"Hand over the fucking dog, ahou. (idiot / jackass)"

*-*-*-*

Now, you might guess that Aoshi wasn't a big fan of being called a jackass. Particularly, when he was almost entirely sure he was correct. He took note of the fact that the man was using a term that was more common in Kyoto than here in Tokyo. Nor did this man look anything near being a dogcatcher, although he dressed the part. A tall, sinewy man stood before them, a cigarette hanging between two gloved digits. Aoshi saw the flash of a challenge in the man's eyes, and was struck with a cautious curiosity.

This… dogcatcher was challenging him. Those eyes bordered on amber, and were daring him to try something. This obviously was no ordinary civil servant that was for sure. He was obviously in the uniform, a plain white jumper with the icon of his workplace on his breast pocket. A net was twiddled in the very tips of his fingers at his side, while the other drew the cigarette in for another drag.

In the next moment, Aoshi found his hand… puppyless.

"No! You can't have him!! Y-you… chain-smoking dog killer!!" The girl yelled angrily at him, taking a fighting stance… or at least something that resembled one if one were ever to require holding a puppy. The puppy was getting excited by the loud tone of voice Misao had used, and started yipping.

"Do I look like a dog killer to you…" The man seemed to give her the look over, as if he didn't know what to address her as. "… Weasel?... the appropriate term is, 'catcher.' Whether or not the dogs live to see another day is no care of mine," his lip twitched into a smirk as he watched girl nearly burst into flames before his eyes.

Misao promptly fumed, if not for the gentle (but firm) grip Aoshi had on her shoulder to hold her back. Heaven only knows what would happen to the poor pup in the crossfire. And no, this man did not look like a dog killer. 'Just drop the "dog" altogether,' Aoshi thought as he watched the manner the man took up the net. It wasn't the way a man held a net, unless "net" was a new euphemism for deadly weapon. There was a long tense silence, and finally the chain-smoker relented, it seemed, out of boredom.

"Look, either we're going to settle this like adults…" Aoshi wondered if he meant the twentieth century definition, or some earlier time period, "Or you just take the bloody fur ball yourself."

Neither man expected her to take the statement seriously. Then again, neither man seemed all that surprised either. 

*-*-*-*

Not to far away, at about the same time, Sano was finishing up his lunch. Although there was no talking being done, there sure was a hell of a lot of eating taking place; so strangely, his meal lasted longer than his housemates who were elsewhere. Rubbing his belly, he was handing his plates and utensils back to a timid and blushing Tsubame.

He only told himself that he would *try* not to flirt with her.

"Why thank you there, pretty darlin'…" His hand brushed over hers under one of the plates, and her face flushed crimson. Grinning and sitting back, he winked – his mojo promptly interrupted by a battle cry from the doorway.

"KEEP YOUR FILTHY CLAWS AWAY FROM MY GIRL YOU ECCHI CLUCK! (pervert)" A boy, that wasn't much younger than himself, nor much difference in hair styling… fumed. Sano idly rolled a toothpick over in his mouth as the kid stomped his way over.

"Hey look kid… I may be an ecchi when the time is right…" He wiggled his eyebrows towards Tsubame, who was quickly backed up by Tae, both of whom were blushing, "… and so my hands might get a lil' filthy…" Sano shrugged nonchalantly. "However… I am NOT a cluck." The last statement was firm and reprimanding, not to mention edged on patronizing. Even he was astonished by his own composure. Now had he been fighting with Misao…

"Hey dancing boy, you gonna eat with us or you too busy defendin' your lady's honor?" a group of boys were chuckling in the background, imitating the sounds of whipping. The boy in question whipped his head around, growling.

"I TOLD YOU TO QUIT IT WITH THAT DANCING BOY CRAP!" His words dripped with venom, and Tae was waving her hands trying to calm him down or at least get his attention. The other customers were starting to stare. Tsubame was too busy blushing and looking at her feet.

"Sorry Yahiko-CHAN!" the other boys said in unison.

"I AIN'T NO FUCKING 'CHAN'!!!" The spiky-headed kid seemed to be steaming from the ears, and looked like he was about to go over there and open a can of whoopass, but before that, he overheard something from the older man.

"You never told me you had a boyfriend, now what will I have to do Saturday night?" Sano didn't like being ignored. Also, he didn't think Tae wanted this place torn apart by a bunch of punk kids. The only punk allowed to tear the place up, if anybody, would be him. He grinned… the grin widening when a wide-eyed, teeth bared boy was right in his face.

"HOW DARE YOU ASK MY GIRLFRIEND ON A DATE RIGHT IN FRONT OF ME!!!" The boy wailed and spat in Sano's face. He calmly, grabbed a napkin and wiped it away. Even though he was really tempted to slug the brat, he really had no interest in really breaking the boy in two or anything. But, taking this kid down was going to be damned comical, 'specially if he could do it in front of his girlfriend. However, he wasn't sure if this was quite the place for it, as Tae looked like she was about to cry at the customers who looked like they were going to leave and never come back.

What happened afterward could only be described as a mini-chick fight. Clawing, biting, scratching, and hair pulling ensued. Sano was going easy on the kid, and then eventually just hoisted the boy up and flung him over his shoulder. Winking at Tae and Tsubame, he excused himself, taking the kid along with him.

Sekihara Tae sighed in relief. It looked like with them gone the restaurant was going to calm down. What surprised her was the sudden alertness of her co-worker.

"Yahiko-kun!!" Tsubame called after him suddenly, sounding highly distressed. Tae rested two sisterly hands upon her shoulders.

"Ne, Sagara-san won't hurt him… he's quite the gentle giant…" If this was true, she wasn't quite sure, but she was hoping it was.

"I-iie--!" The girl shook her head furiously, trying not to drop the wares in her hands.

"No, Tsubame-chan, trust me there's no need to worry…" Tae offered her most soothing voice, trying to ease the younger girl's burden by taking some of the wares for her, taking no mind of the way the girl tried to sputter some response.

"… demo! (but!)"

"… Yahiko-kun can take care of himself, and Sagara-san wouldn't honestly hurt him…"

"… demo, he didn't *PAY!*" Tsubame suddenly blurted out uncharacteristically. Tae's eyebrow twitched, taking a mental note to add it to the Shinomori tab. Sano couldn't get away, after all, she knew where he lived.


	27. Chapter 27 - Think of Jiya Naked

 "Hey, ya'jerk, ya could put me down ANY time now!"

"Hm?" Sano was still rolling the same toothpick over in his mouth, chewin' it till it was just soft saliva-ed down splinters. Spitting it out into the gutter, and making sure to miss the innocent passersby, he shook his head. "Naaah." The kid needed a lesson in manners. If having every man, woman, and child gawk and stare at him for two blocks did it, well then, that's what just had to be done.

"Look," the brat's voice turned serious and low. Obviously, he wanted to reason with the guy, but he didn't want to beg. "Put me down. This is humiliating." His tone was flat, and he went limp against Sano, after having fighting kicking and screaming the whole way. Frankly, it was less embarrassing if he pretended to be dead weight.

"You gonna behave?" Sano didn't really need an answer, nor did he wait. They were standing by the opening of a children's playground when he set the boy down. Tilting his head slightly, he looked down at his hand, not to mention the scuff marks on his shirt. "That was one hell of a fight ya'put up there, you work out or something?"

"ARE YOU HITTING ON ME?!!" Acting fast, Sanosuke clamped one hand over his mouth, and the other behind his head. Had he actually been mad, he could've crushed the kid's skull.

"Geez, you're high strung…" After the brat quit fighting, he let go. There were a couple mothers, young and old, looking at the pair rather strangely. Sano put on his most dazzling smile, and bowed to them, "No worries ladies! False alarm!" The older women sneered, while the younger ones blushed and giggled. 'I still got it. Sagara, you dog…' Tucking some hair behind his ear, he flashed another smile towards the whispering ladies. 'Talking about this lovely hunk a'burnin' love, no doubt…' Running a large hand down his abs, as though to straighten out his shirt, he actually stretched it over his muscles, he earned more giggles, blushing, sneering… and a few odd whistles. He was basking it in alright. However, his self-praise was cut off when the kid piped up.

"What's so hot about you?" The kid was looking from him to the women, back and forth a couple of times. He didn't seem furious anymore, but he honestly looked clueless. 'So young, so impressionable…' Sano roughed up the kid's hair a bit. The brat was on the short side, but he had good taste in hair cuts, so Sano was throwing him a couple brownie points.

"Why do you wanna know? Dontcha got a girl already?" Topping it off with a noogie to the kid's skull, he laughed and started walking again, "… a pretty cute one at that…"

"Only one… HEY! Wait up!!" the furious stomping came up behind him in no time at all, the kid catching up though Sano's legs were a lot longer. The boy kicked at the floor, glancing around, stuffing his hands in his pockets. Sano took a closer look at him through the corner of his eye. 'Another privy school kid… fantastic. No wonder he's lookin' to me, Sagara Sanosuke, for my expertise…' All schools had uniforms, but the private ones were more obvious. Usually because their uniforms had either military stripes, or crosses and sacred hearts scattered all over. Sano idly wondered what school this kid was from, as there wasn't a name so much as just a coat of arms on his blazer. When it registered how the kid had answered, Sano halted in his tracks. Holding his hands up to ward the kid off, he shook his head firmly.

"Ohhh no. No. Go," The man just pointed in the opposite direction. His eyes were laughing, but in his act to feign seriousness, he hid them behind his eyelids. Sano shook his head negatively, as though he were shockingly disappointed at the boy.  "Look, I won't be responsible for some dancin' boy's innocence." He tried hard to keep a straight face, and nearly drew blood from biting the inside of his lip to keep from laughing as the steam started coming out of the kid's ears again. This kid needed a chill pill, or Ritalin, or *something*. 'A good joint does a body good.'

"DON'T CALL ME THAT!! My *mom* dances, not *ME*!!" The boy crossed his arms firmly, nodding, as if agreeing with himself, "I take kendou… but every since the guys found out my mom teaches ballet at St. Kat's – but ANYWAY! What makes you think I need *you* to show me how to lose my innocence?!" He blushed when he realized he was basically admitting his innocence just by saying that.

"Whoa, St. Kat? As in Catharine??" Sano blinked, as he tried to backtrack through the boy's ramblings. He seemed to be going over this in his head, and he hooked a thumb in his pocket, stroking his chin with the other hand. When the images of Misao in that uniform started popping up in his head again, he quickly changed the subject while waving his hand dismissively, "Right. Alright. No dancing boy…"

"I have a name, y'know."

"No shit, me too." Silence.  The two looked at each other, then looked forward to the sidewalk. As if they'd known each other for years, they walked without a word passing between them. Then they stopped at a red street light.

"Sano."

"Yahiko."

"Problem solved." They nodded, never having to look at each other, and kept on walking.

*-*-*-*

The lease allowed pets, sure. That wasn't the problem. The problem was where to put the little pup. At least, that's the problem Aoshi saw. The lady friend beside him, however, saw other difficulties. As they walked into the apartment, Aoshi holding the door for an enraptured Misao, he settled the bags on the dining table.

Misao, on the other hand, was busy twirling with the pup in the air, giggling cheerfully. "So what should we call you, eh boy?" She paused, and did a little look see. "… yes, boy." Practically bouncing with each step, the pup was just about as happy as she. It yipped a bit, but didn't show signs of being a very loud or bad tempered dog. Aoshi thanked the heavens for small favors. He folded his arms, surveying his apartment. This was no place for a dog. Particularly since it was so… spring clean fresh? Glancing down at the dining table, able to see the reflection of every single feature of his being, he took a good sniff of the air.

 "Sano cleaned." Misao nearly dropped the puppy.

*-*-*-*

Aoshi had disappeared for a bit, leaving Misao to play with her new best friend. Just after getting the papers and what not for the dog, which surprisingly took no time at all, Misao insisted they go buy toys. He agreed, if for no other reason than to spare the furniture.

Then her mind went back to that creepy dog catcher guy, and she physically convulsed. The puppy was now rolling over, chewing on a rawhide bacon strip. What was up with that guy? She then figured the adoption went so fast so that he could get her out of his face. Tapping her chin, she tried to muster up some details.

'Gorou,' that was what was on his name tag. He'd been about Aoshi's height, maybe taller. Misao really couldn't tell because he seemed to be always trying to strike a cool pose with that cigarette. She sniffed her clothing, they still stank of the stuff. Shuddering again, she returned her attentions to the puppy. Little crumbs and things were being scattered on the carpet, but nothing a vacuum couldn't fix. Then Misao did a double take around the apartment.

Sano sure was a piece of work. He comes home at some ungodly hour, with some … *woman* and… with the hands, and the things, and the smells, and the things… Grabbing the sides of her skull, Misao shook her head fiercely. The puppy, with some sick sense, must have noticed Misao's distress, and halted all play and chewdom. He twitched his little nose and nuzzled into her leg. She smiled sadly, reaching down to massage the cuff of the pup's neck.

"You wouldn't hurt me, would ya boy…" she whispered quietly, not noticing that Aoshi had returned and was standing in earshot.

*-*-*-*

There was some stuff down in storage of the apartment building, mostly furniture he had to have moved out because of buying the new bed and dresser for Misao's room. In his arms was what looked like a roadie trunk from a concert, or something. It was the only thing he could think of that could possibly have substituted for a puppy play pen… he'd just have to unscrew a couple hinges, and take the top off or something, so they didn't accidentally trap the pup in there…

All of the logic was halted, when he caught the reflection of Misao in serious distress. She wasn't very good at hiding it. After all, she wasn't Aoshi. A tiny pang hit the shallow of his chest, when he set the trunk down by the dining table. Obviously, he'd gone unnoticed, but then again, it's hard to hear something if you're trying to squish the sides of your skull into a single pancake. He would just calmly approach, not to shock her, and jar her out of her little manic episode.

It was the words that stopped him then. On one knee behind her, as she sat in the sunken couch, his breath caught in his throat.

"You wouldn't hurt me, would ya boy?" Her hands were playful with the pup, as if trying to convince it that there was nothing to worry about. But the pup knew as well as Aoshi did, that the false vibes weren't gonna fly.

'From parent to pet. Great. Just great,' it seemed that not only the longer he was with this young woman did he want to do the forsaken, and smile every once in a while, not to mention the deep-seeded violent tendencies towards anything of a vaguely threatening nature, now he was slipping down the evolutionary ladder. Shinomori Aoshi, the penthouse puppy dog.

*-*-*-*

Misao pulled the puppy up into her lap, where it sat happily, wagging its tail, and waiting for his mistress' biding. What a surprisingly obedient dog, for a puppy. Then again, it was just the first… hour. As her hand petted down the fluff on the lil' tyke's head, she smiled, briefly pushing aside her angst for a later hour. Scrunching up her face, she poked out a pouty lower lip at the curious pup.

"So what are we gonna call ya huh?" Tucking her hands under the dog's front legs, she dragged him up as if it were some hard laborious task. She gave him a little Eskimo kiss, and giggled when she was showered with those sloppy puppy kisses. "Okay okay! Don't eat me!" She squealed, kicking her legs up and resting her head back on the back of the couch. Bringing the puppy up overhead at arms length, she noticed the rather large shadow the little pup was casting.

Turning her head slowly to one side, she saw a foot. It was a very well dressed, leather bound… manly foot. It was attached to a leg, encased in fine linen, which was bent at the knee. Her eyes traveled, and her head followed her gaze, until she found herself staring rather profoundly at a man's crotch. To worsen matters, it was *this* man's crotch. She swallowed hard, as if she were trying to bring the blood back down from her head into the rest of her emptying veins. The little pup began to squirm, probably because it had been suspended in the air so long, and now it was getting shaken by trembling hands. 'Okay. Breathe Misao… yes, in… then out… I mean it's not like you've never stared at a man's crotch before…'

*-*-*-*

Now this was unexpected. Had he known his package was going to be examined, he might have prepared somehow. The puppy didn't obstruct too much of his vision, that he couldn't see as Misao arched up to roll onto the top of her head to follow her gaze along his parts. Why had no one told him all he had to do was be down on a bended knee to get such an inspection?...

'Hah.' He really had been living with Sano for too long. Had Sano been home, Misao would've gotten quite the earful. Pause. Sano's not home?

Looking left, and looking right. The fact that there was no noise of any kind in the apartment pointed all signs to Sanosuke's absence. He glanced at his watch, still not moving from his position, in case Misao would do something rash from the shock. He needed this parts, y'know. Last thing he needed was a puppy being thrown at his crotch and making lunch out of his testicles – he'd become quite attached to them over the years.

*-*-*-*

Somewhere in dreamland, Misao galloped through several fantasies in the back of her mind, while the front of it was still trying to figure out what the hell to do. She recalled a gutter thought of, 'Take two Aoshis and call me in the morning…' The little she-devil on her shoulder mentioned something about there being no morning after two Aoshis the night before. Not much walking either.

By this time, the poor girl's arms couldn't hold the puppy to ward off whatever reaction Aoshi had to her obvious… well, stare. When a man was posed like that, it made the crotch of their pants' tent deceptively and…

'Think of Jiya naked. Think of Jiya naked. Think of Jiya naked…' Oddly, all of this mental turmoil was going on in a matter of seconds in the real world, so when her arms weakened from the lack of circulation… Misao lowered the puppy back into her lap, and stared straight up into a finely angled chin. He wasn't looking at her, though; he was looking left, and right? What *was* he doing?

'Maybe…! He didn't see me!... or maybe, he thinks I saw a piece of lint or something – no no then he'd be looking at his crotch too… unless he was so confident in what he'd see…' The world slowly started to spin out of focus as her ecchi dark side began to surface. Even though she was taking birth control, it didn't mean that she was constantly sexualizing the world. Frankly, she didn't really think about it, if she could avoid it. When she first discovered she had the startings of a chest, she had tried to hide them because of all the boys in her classes who were also developing in places. Maybe she needed more female role models? Some good they would do her *now*… Then a disturbing thought surface, '…masaka… he can't… *want* me to look????...'

*-*-*-*

His attention went back to the girl staring off into the space through his head. Because it was quite obvious that she wasn't in the room with him right now. With puppy a safe distance from his family jewels, he idly waved a hand in front of Misao's face. Not a moment without comedy with this one, that's for sure. One would think having spent most of your life sparring with men twice your size that every once in a while…

The notion of Misao's face in another man's crotch nearly made him wretch right then and there. Of course that would mean puking on Misao, and somehow that was less settling. It was just… horridly disturbing to think such things. Not to mention… kind of kinky. The notion of Misao's head in his crotch on the other hand…

'… out of the question.' … was entirely out of the question. Not that *that* would have been kinky, you know, unless she was still in that short little skirt… However, it was an indefinite non-topic, and will be thought of no further in the Shinomori household. Most people called it denial; Aoshi knew it as "safe." Although, Misao, obviously, was not going to snap out of her trance any time soon, and the even the enamored puppy lost interest and went back to his rawhide bacon strip. Since she wasn't in the land of the living, he allowed himself to roll his eyes while another was (in theory) watching. He stood up and went to work preparing the temporary home for the pup. Aoshi saw no long term domicile for the animal if Misao was going to keep boring him by scuttling off to dreamland.

As he walked upstairs, to change his clothes, he paused once he got into his bedroom. He still reeked of thick tobacco stench, and remembering that so-called 'dog-catcher' struck a chord. Not in the same way that Hiko guy had, but there was a challenge in there somewhere, and it was obvious he hadn't seen the last of him. Dragging off his jacket, and hanging it over his arm, he began walking towards the bathroom.

Each step was bringing him closer and closer to the disaster area that Sanosuke had left behind. Aoshi had no idea what he was going to see when he got to that bathroom door, or when he opened it to find various towels lazily draped over the shower door, and the towel racks, not to  mention the sink that was home to lonely specks of nose hair… or the fact that his bath oils (which were still in question as to why he had them and what he used them for) were mostly lying on their sides next to the furu. No, he expected, nor suspected any of this.

As his hand curled around the bathroom door's knob, there was just one thought that popped into his mind when it came to his brother.

'Isn't Sano… allergic to dogs??'

===

Author's Note:

Yay! Sano torture! – er, I mean… Sano's back, horray? ^_^;;… And in our next episode, Sano and Misao may FINALLY cross paths again… yes, I know. "About time!!"… I know… I know… @.@; But the puppy. ::points:: See the puppy bark! See the puppy play! See the puppy cause more chaos and havoc to add to the plot! Hehe. 'nuff from me for now. ^_^ Love to hear from each and every one of ya.

So now you've read. Now you see that little button saying "Submit Review"? Well y'see you click that… and when you type something in… and submit it, you will be magically rewarded with new chapters!! (I do update lots, ask any of my regular readers. ^_^ They're spoiled, aren't you? Aren't you? ::coos at her readers, before stopping before they bite her hand off:J  You know the drill. Nice hello, how are you, and thank you to my reviewers, who basically have stuck around since the beginning. ^_^; A couple newbies, too, thankee very much.


	28. Chapter 28 - Honey, I'm home?

It wasn't long after that Sanosuke found himself moseyin' back to the Akabeko with dancing boy – er, Yahiko. They hadn't really spoken, but remained in a companionable silence. Both were in their own little worlds, thinking about the only real problem guys their age ever really had.

'Women.' The taller boy's hands were shoved into his pockets, and the other had seemed to mimic him toe to toe. It was obvious he had unknowingly, and not too begrudgingly, adopted a little brother. '… whose girlfriend was pretty cute.' He smirked around the toothpick he'd picked up passing by a bento stand. Of course, along the way, he was putting together a couple of things… St. Catharine's. Tsubame. Misao. Skirts. All in all, this meant movement in the more nether regions of his person, be it the turning of his stomach with guilt, or… other things.

Beside him, Yahiko had different women troubles. Well, sure he had a girlfriend. A cute one, at that. It was just… with all the guys teasing him all the time, it felt as though he needed to prove something. Even though all the after school specials told him he didn't have to – everybody knows those shows are bullshit. Of course he had something to prove! It wasn't bad enough that he was smaller than most of the other guys, but when one of 'em happened to stumble onto his mother making dancing costumes for one of her recitals…

Well, the costume wasn't that bad, it was just that she had been using Yahiko has a living mannequin. That had been back in first year, but he had *yet* to live it down. No matter how many kendou tournaments he won, or how loud he'd yell… they still called him "dancing boy." Yahiko glanced up at the boy walking beside him. 'Sano prolly doesn't get teased,' he thought sullenly, chewing at his own toothpick. A guy who can have that much game couldn't get picked on, right? Right…

The two men-in-training parted ways in front of the Akabeko with a single nod, and went along their merry ways. Yahiko went back to visiting Tsubame – and probably getting one hell of an earful from Tae for his conduct before… and Sano went back to…

He suddenly stopped in front of a store window. Something had caught the corner of his eye, and drawn his face to the glass. There, in the window… there it was. It spoke, 'Misao.' And silently through that thin pane, it whispered 'buy me'… and since 'buy me a 'Misao' didn't compute, even in Sano's mind, he drew the conclusion that the ominous voice was telling him to 'buy Misao one of those.' Sanosuke figured it couldn't hurt – after all, he was *already* in trouble, right…?

Patting his wallet, which held the credit card for emergencies given to him by his ever beloved mother, he stepped into the store, flashing the female attendants his most charming smiles.

*-*-*-*

Sometime whilst Sanosuke and Yahiko wandered and pondered, Aoshi was cleaning up his bathroom. His jaw was clenched as he did so, as he usually never had to. Neat and meticulous meant for less clean up. However, none of these genes had been passed onto his brother, obviously. He hadn't been this upset in… well, in a *really* long time.

It wasn't the kind of upset that he would have with or at his father. It wasn't the upset he would get with or at his mother. This feeling was nothing so severe or intense.

It was the kind of anger you get when you wake up one morning, discover you're late for a class, run around in circles beside yourself, and show up… and find out it's been cancelled. Aoshi knew he was being childish, especially thinking of all the different ways he could throw Sano out the window. He knew it was hardly the adult way of dealing with things… Entertaining the ideas of going into Sano's room and messing everything up in *there* and seeing how *he* likes it…

Of course, Aoshi never lost his cool. He just took deep breaths. In. Out. In. Out. In. Out. … The bathroom was almost cleaned up, but there was still the problem of Sanosuke's dirty clothes. Picking them up from their place on their floor, he held them at arm's length. They didn't stink of sweat and grime so much as detergent and cleaning products. Frankly, Aoshi was scared about leaving Sano alone again tomorrow. He'd cleaned the place up so well, the only thing left for him to do would be mess it up.

He'd have to remember to get a new lock for his bedroom door.

*-*-*-*

Downstairs, Misao was coddling an all too contented puppy. She'd gone through the recycling and set some newspaper in the bottom of the roadie trunk, and set some of the pup's toys in it.

"Keitaro. How do you like that, hm?" She hoped that she'd have time to play with him with school and all. But anything would be better than leaving him with that… that… monster. Where are they finding people to fill these civil servant jobs now? There must've been some coalition of ex-convict military veteran… union or something. Misao involuntarily shuddered. That Gorou guy had just been way too creepy.

Picking up the pup, she introduced him to his new home. He raced around the small confined space, slowing down to sniff and inspect. The poor pup stumbled over his own toys here and there, but all in all, it didn't look like he had any huge objections.

The apartment was quiet now. The puppy settled down a bit, seemingly content with a brand new bacon strip. Misao sat back on the couch, and collapsed onto her side. Her head rested into a nearby cushion, and she felt drained. This pup was going to wear her out, that's for sure. But she didn't mind that… as much as the emotional turmoil that was pulling her in seventy different directions.

It was an unsettling subject that kept bubbling to the surface… 'Sanosuke.' It felt weird now, addressing him. Even silently, it sounded strange. When she called him by his full name, or by any nickname, all of them seemed strange and foreign now. 'Sanosuke' felt too impersonal and formal. 'Sano' was too off-handed, and in-passing. 'Sanonii' seemed too familiar and childish. 

Being with him made her think about many things she would never admit to. Part of her, albeit still developing, was a woman. When she started dating, he laughed. He outright laughed. Was it so silly to believe that she could get a date? The only opinion she ever truly trusted was *his*. They told each other everything, they did so much together… and now they were hurting one another.

Or rather, it seemed he was doing most of it. He, as a guy, would never see that she was checking out all the girls he would 'conquer.' They were always so pretty, so perky, and so… womanly. It was only natural to compare. With their dresses, and their silky hair... They weren't drenched in sweat after beating the crap out of some guy twice their size, or throwing potentially deadly weapons at a straw target. They weren't breaking noses, and knocking teeth out…

It was no wonder no one wanted her… *that* way.

Kicking her feet up onto the couch, she rolled onto her back and stared blankly at the ceiling. With her arm draped across her forehead, she sighed, averting her gaze a moment. 'Soujirou.' He'd been the only one who seemed to notice she were alive… *that* way.

All of that was in the past now, though. The scars were there, but they were all going to heal… hopefully. Someday she'd feel attractive, and maybe even – heaven forbid – sexy. Someday.

… that day when she couldn't see all the faces and hear all the sounds of what was attractive to the only brother she ever knew.

*-*-*-*

"Ne, Misao-chan… don't you like milkshakes anymore?" the boy beside her tilted his head. It almost looked like his smile had disappeared, but the corners of his lips managed to stay afloat somehow. The concern in his eyes threatened to spill and drag them into a frown… but never did, of course. Even though it had been so long since they were a couple, Misao could still remember clearly every expression that presented itself in those eyes of his. Soujirou wasn't one to show many faces, but the key to his entire being was in his eyes, if one knew to look for it. For the moment, Misao took it as a misfortune that she was one of these miraculous people who could see past his smile and stare into his concern.

 "… iya… guess I didn't want one as much as I thought I did," she tried to pass it off with a smile herself, but he obviously wasn't buying it. He twitched his nose at her, as if punctuating an unasked question. "There's nothing wrong…" And his eyebrow lifted, "*Really!*…" His blue eyes rolled up, and he let out a soft sigh, "… oh fine." He smiled.

'I hate it when he does that…' he could read her like a book now. It was almost as annoying as it was endearing. Now he just smiled, waiting for her to tell him what was wrong. They both leaned back on the park bench, one hand in the others, the other dangling behind the bench. 'A month… has it been that long?' She sighed, and then felt a lil' tug on one of her bangs.

Blinking, she saw herself staring at her boyfriend's face. He simply blinked back, she could almost *hear* a little shutter clicking as they did.

"Well, I was sparring with Sano earlier and—" She glanced at him. She knew what he was thinking. 'All of my problems are Sano-centric. I *know*… kami, please, Sou-chan… bear with me…' she pleaded silently, squeezing at his hand gently. His face hadn't changed from its pleasant demeanor, but she could read him, too. Not as well as he could read her, but she could. "… and I told him."

Soujirou flinched. 'Good thing I'm in track…' was all he could think. It wasn't that he didn't know she was connected to Sanosuke, or that Sano would be more than willing to bash his skull in if he knew… It's why they had decided to keep a super low profile. Soujirou could run, but he had little intention to start doing it for the rest of his life starting *now*. He laughed weakly, scratching the back of his head with his free hand… returning to lean back on the bench and stare up at the sky, he spoke, "So what did he say?"

"He laughed." Soujirou sputtered.

"Laughed??" His eyes widened as he spoke, raising a questioning eyebrow. After all, what was there to be laughed at? Was it like… maniacal laughter? "Before Freddy Krueger goes in for the slaughter" type thing?

"Yes. He laughed," Misao stated matter-of-factly. Part of her didn't want to tell him *why* Sano had laughed… while the other was trying *really* hard to keep a straight face. Glancing over Soujirou quickly, what Sanosuke said was slowly beginning to make sense. 'He is a little too pretty for a boy…' she bit the inside of her lip. If Jiya was her good conscience, than Sano must've been the devil on her other shoulder… It was *him* filling her head with these ideas… and the visions of her boyfriend in compromising male-male positions was far too tantalizing than could be at all comfortable.

"Doushita no? (How come?)" He was pouting, way too cutely, considering Misao's train of thought. And he obviously could see she was trying not to laugh either. "… Misaaaaao." He had this haunting way of drawing out her name, that was scolding, and yet you couldn't help but smile when he did it.

"… well… it's just that…" She held her breath to compose herself, and Soujirou had inched to the edge of the bench to hear. They sat close together, Misao sitting straight and staunch, and Soujirou leaning over close as if offering that she whisper it to him. "… he thinks you're gay."

Soujirou noted the ground wasn't as soft as it looked. Misao oddly wondered if this meant they weren't going to be making out later.

…

Naaahhh.

*-*-*-*

Back in the present, Aoshi came down the stairs, he glanced around almost worriedly. It was *far* too quiet. Had he still been living alone, this would be all too good and well. However, in recent times, it usually meant something was horribly horribly wrong.

The puppy was curled up snuggly into a corner of his trunk, and Misao was curled up snuggly on his couch. Right. So of course there's nothing wrong… the puppy's just napping… and Misao is staring up blankly at nothing as though the world just ended and she's having bittersweet memories of the mushroom cloud that started it all.

So, again, Aoshi went unnoticed. He went into Misao's backpack – something he wouldn't make a habit of doing – but, regardless. He went into the bag and pulled out the papers handed out by teachers, and all the cell phone gear. Putting Sano's stuff together, his dirty clothes, and his cell phone stuff, he rested those… well, he paused for a moment wondering *where* to rest the aforementioned items. He was not about to put Sano's laundry on any surface which was to be eaten upon, so the kitchen counter and the dining room table were out. The floor was out just out of principle…

Aoshi paused. He looked down at the clothes he had in his hand, and then at the girl on the couch. The clothes. The girl. Well then.

Misao found herself suddenly shrouded in darkness. And worse off, it smelled. Coughing and throwing off the obstruction, she gasped for air, trying to get away the lemony pine fresh with color guard scent out of her lungs. "WHAT THE –"

Quickly preventing Misao from continuing down the path of a veteran curser, Aoshi interrupted, "Sanosuke's."

"What are you dropping them on *me* for?" She looked exasperated, and strangely, full of life. That's better.

"You were there." It was true, she was. So what if he gave her a fourth grade answer? He shrugged, and turned away from her rather nonchalantly. Resting all the cell phone accessories in a neat array on the dining table, he counted the seconds until he heard feet stomping up behind him. 'One… two…'

"What's the big idea? Why not put them in *HIS* room rather than dropping them in *my* face?? And what are you doing with his laundry anyway? And why do they smell so – "

*-*-*-*

"I JUST CLEANED!!!" A fact which had shaken the occupants of the apartment in its truth, and now the serenity was shattered once more by the announcement of said miracle.

Sano had appeared in the doorway, his hand clutching the door, and the other the door's frame. It was as though he was clutching for dear life. Well, at least that explained the smell. That sure didn't explain all the other things… but Misao felt she was about to get all her answers, watching as Aoshi's hands planted firmly on his hips. She would've laughed if she didn't think comparing Aoshi to a scolding mother hen wasn't… well, a fatal and deadly mistake, especially if expressed out loud in anyway.

"You missed a spot," Aoshi stated flatly, snatching up the offending clothing that Misao had so generously returned to his general vicinity. Sano's eyes bugged open momentarily, as if knowing *exactly* where they came from and *exactly* what he was in for. So of course, he changed the subject.

"WHAT. IS. THIS." Sano had crossed the room and was staring at them wide-eyed and with an invisible stick up his ass. And in front of them he dangled a yellowish … hair?

"It looks like a hair to me… but perhaps I need a second opinion. Misao?" His brother always had a way of being far too melodramatic about these things.

"Yes, that sure looks like a hair to me…" she shrugged, and nodded looking rather carefree.

"I KNOW IT'S A HAIR!" Sano threw his hands up and raked them madly through his unruly hair. He was having a mental breakdown it seemed, or something that required grounding his teeth together to suppress a scream. Then he saw it. The puppy. Pointing accusingly at the innocent creature, he bellowed, "IT'S YOURS. ISN'T IT?!!"

Aoshi scratched his temple for a bit, and Misao raised both eyebrows. Did Sanosuke really expect the dog to answer? And that god-awful yelling… they considered him the way you would one of those guys who rant and rave to themselves on the street corner about how the sky is falling, and god is really an oyster in disguise.

"WHAT THE HELL IS A DOG DOING HERE?!! @!?#$#&!!..." the cursing streak went on for about a solid minute, spit included. Aoshi folded his arms across his chest, Sano's dirty clothes hanging from his finger tips. Misao folded her arms in a similar fashion, and looked up at the ceiling. When it looked as though Sano had finally landed back on *this* planet, Misao drew her attention back to him.

"His name is Keitaro," … this time Aoshi raised an eyebrow ever so slightly. She smiled and nodded.

"What a dumb name for a dog… wait, anyway, what the fuck's a dog doing here anyway? Where do you get off bringing a fucking dog home? You know how I fucking feel about fucking dogs, 'cause they fucking stink and they have fucking diseases and for fuck's sake…" Aoshi mentally counted on his fingers exactly how many times the f-word had been used in that one solitary statement, and then decided to speak – as he finally had the chance to.

"Are you allergic?" Aoshi knew there had been some bizarre reason in their childhood to why Sano didn't want a dog. He couldn't recall, but he thought it was the obvious thing… that he was allergic. But Sano wasn't violently coughing or sneezing or anything that seemed too much of an emergency.

"He's not," Misao said matter-of-factly. "It's just already so hard for him with *two* members of the household who have a higher IQ, that one more just broke him…"

"Don't you get smart with me, little lady! Where do you get off bringing a dog home?" He was waggling a finger in her face like she weren't just two years younger. It was almost annoying how he took advantage of his height like that. 

"Where do you get off bringing a girl home?" Somewhere within her answered calmly, where the rest of her had the instinct to throttle him and scream "Baka Tori Atama!" Aoshi almost applauded her, for both bringing up something that he was going to eventually, second of all – scolding Sano for it so he wouldn't have to. She also managed to shut him up… Amazing. Simply amazing.

"It's got to go. Aoshi. This is no place for a dog."

Another "simply amazing" moment. Sano was appealing to reason. What the hell had happened to the world today? Misao briefly glanced between Sano and Aoshi, watching the silent power struggle continue. If this was their idea of sibling rivalry, why did she feel like she just dropped into the pilot for "My Two Dads."

Sano saw that it was more than obvious that his protests were being ignored on both counts. Seeking to Aoshi's reasoning wasn't working, and outright yelling at Misao hadn't worked… He crossed his arms as well, and … tried not to pout.

"Look, fine. But 'Keitaro'? C'mon, even *I* can do better than that," and with that, Sano got the reaction he finally wanted out of Misao. She looked like she was about to hit him. His Misao had been out of the picture for far too long… 'My … Misao?...'

"I think it's a good name! Ne, Aoshi-sama?" She looked over at him with large pleading eyes. They sort of looked like they were saying, "Pick me pick me! Pick me and it means Sano's wrong! If for no other reason pick me!" Aoshi shrugged slightly, causing Misao to pout. He hadn't *not* agreed with her, but it was just as good as saying "not really" or "I could care less."

Misao stomped her foot on the ground, balling her fists at her sides, "FINE. What would *YOU* name him?"

… Sano paused. He looked as though he were honestly thinking about it, with the whole of his being. His chin settled between his thumb and forefinger, and his brow knitted pensively… he looked over at Aoshi, and their eyes locked. Brown with steel blue. They were thinking the exact same thing, and spoke it at the exact same time.

"Okina." After the son of a bitch who put them here.

---

Author's Notes:

YES. That was painfully corny. ^_^; And sorry for the late update… I was kind of busy with school work. But classes end next Friday, woo hoo! There's still lots more coming up… and sorry again for the lateness. ;_;

Thanks to all of you who responded to my author's note that was … well, formerly here. ^_^; I uploaded over it on purpose, since it was acknowledged by all of my readers, who I respect and I've discovered respect me back. ^_^; Who knew?

I've also noticed myself falling into a pitfall that I've found happening a lot in longer fanfics, and it's that I'm losing the original flavor of my tone of writing. Sort of like it depreciates over time or something… Less funny, less serious, something. I'm trying really hard for my writing to not be affected by my enormous mood swings (^_^; heh) but anyone feel free to email me and stuff. I mean, I honestly haven't worked out a big ending or finale… just that I've planned for certain things to happen, and I just have to *get* there. I guess this is more like a prime time drama than anything, huh? ^_^; 


	29. Chapter 29 - Your Dinnah ... is Served

For a while after, all the way until dinner, it seemed as though some normality had found its way back under the Shinomori penthouse rooftop. The dog was not named "Okina" for it suggested that those under said roof were embittered towards the old man, and of course – they *were*… they just didn't want to be that blatant about it. He was still their grandfather, for whatever it was worth, and they couldn't go and name a dog after him. "… The son of a bitch he is," Sano made sure to add. Aoshi would never voice the fact that he agreed. Their grandfather was easy to blame as he had a hand in manipulating the circumstances where had led Aoshi into this whole situation (and Sano for that matter)… and since he was conveniently not present. They still had to have some respect for the old fart. So it was settled that the puppy be named "Pochi"… as it's just a common dog name, and it was well… a pretty common dog. (Think "poochie" but the Japanese equivalent.)

The three occupants went their separate ways: The puppy moving into Misao's room along with her school things, Sanosuke warning the pup with death glares as he tried to make his room dog-proof and Aoshi went about with business. Now, Aoshi had a couple things on his To Do list. First, he had to organize dinner, which had to be delivered in a handful of hours… Then he had to do some actual work, because yes, he did work.

He didn't *have* to, but he did.

In any case, it was around half past three when Aoshi jacked in his laptop. The lonely device had been sitting in its briefcase beneath the desk, untouched. He wasn't exactly the 'web-connoisseur' to any great lengths, but he had gotten accustomed to the regular email check and those minor tasks. Anything else, he could just have his secretaries deal with it.

Like now, for example. He needed information, and he knew his secretaries were good at getting such information. Specifically, Okon. Between Omasu and Okon, he could've had most of Japan under his thumb. Omasu could get her hands on most anything he asked for, and Okon could find anything he could possibly be looking for. Today's adventure left him with one too many questions about one too many people… If Daddy's business was good for nothing else, it was good for this.

As his laptop booted up, Aoshi leaned back into his desk chair. The ceiling offered no answers for him, that was for sure. Several names circled in his mind, 'Seijurou… Gorou… Sanjou… Honjou…' All of these dossiers made their way into his mind, in order of priority. He had to find out how they got here, from where after they found themselves entangled in his life. '…and Misao's.'

He really didn't like to remember that smug look on Seijurou's face, not one bit. Thank goodness Misao wasn't in his class at least.

*-*-*-*

'I gotta switch to Physics…' sighing as she dropped her head into the pillows, Misao tucked her arms snuggly beneath them. The grin that was playing on her lips widened, remembering his very manly features… and he was a pretty big man, but his hands had been so gentle…

She threw a pillow over her face, kicking her legs up and down as she stifled a squeal. The pleats in her skirt had apparently gone to her head.

*-*-*-*

Sanosuke fiddled with his cell phone a bit. He'd had one before, so getting the hang of this one wasn't as large of a production as it had been for Misao. He was sitting on the edge of the bed, hunching over the little gadget, as though it were his salvation. It wasn't, but it might be some day.

A soft beep came from the thing each time he pressed a button, and now he was busy scrolling through the numbers already installed. '…Misao?' He looked left, then right, and finally back down to the glowing LCD screen. 'Guess the weasel got hers, too, huh… hm.' The boy that was Sanosuke, buried not too deep below the surface, decided to let his mischief out for a lil' spin.

Well, he *had* to test it out some time.

Although before he could dial Misao's cell and prank call, his vibrated madly around in his palm. Sano looked like a circus monkey as he juggled the blasted thing from one hand to the other as if it were going to burn him alive. Finally, he got it under control, and answered.

"WHO THE FUCK--!"

"Sanosuke."

"…Aoooshi. My favoritest brother in the whole wide world…" He loudly smacked his forehead, the sound reverberating across the invisible microwaves in the air over to the other end of the apartment.

"You *are* going to be at dinner tonight?" It wasn't a question so much as an order with a question mark at the end. There was a soft tapping noise, like fingertips on a keyboard. Aoshi was busying himself with two tasks at once, half of him at the office, and half at home. The true blue white-collar make-shift dad.

"Well fuck yeah, what makes ya ask something stupid like that?" … there was a pause. Aoshi waited for Sanosuke to answer his own question, so he wouldn't have to waste his breath. "… oh, that. Right, well, I'll be here, count on it, *oniiichan*…"

Aoshi couldn't help but wince. Even though Aoshi had accepted the role long ago, he couldn't stand that whiny drawn out 'oniichan' crap. Not when they were kids, and sure as hell not now.

"Good." … there was a long pause, with only the noises of the keys on Aoshi's laptop as he punched in the last bullets on his memo. They kind of went something like this : 'Please find as much up to date information on the following people… Relay appropriate phone numbers to the following…' The man jerked his head to the screen in mid-type. He had been typing off the top of his head, and he just didn't realize it, but he was typing… a joke? And there, staring him in the face was the final bullet, 'Cancel Starbucks account.' He smirked… kinda.

On the other end of the line, Sano was tapping his foot on the floor. "Was that ALL?! You fucking coulda WALKED over here!" Aoshi could almost feel the spit on his face as Sano cursed, and rolled his eyes.

"Behave."

"BEHAVE?! WHO THE FUCK DO YOU THINK YOU ARE!!!"… just because he was right, didn't mean he could boss Sagara Sanosuke around, oh no. The other of the line was already dead in mid-curse, and Sano lost his taste for cell phones at that very moment. He threw his down onto the bed and pouted at it, with folded arms. Of course, this would be because it would sprout legs to kneel on to beg forgiveness… Right.

Sano then went to stuff his hands in his pockets and realized that one didn't quite have the room. He'd forgotten the 'let bygones be bygones, Misao' gift. Rocking back and forth on his heels, as if to procrastinate just a lil' longer… he looked around for a clock. His alarm clocks didn't have long life spans, considering he had this odd tendency to crash his fist onto the snooze button every so often. However, the clock on the wall – which probably only had another day or two – and he had a couple of hours to kill before dinner. You know, that dinner he *will* be attending. Sano snorted, trying not to pout further, in case someone was to catch him.

*-*-*-*

In Misao's room, the female occupant was watching the four-legged male occupant sleep. 'The poor lil' guy must've tuckered himself out a thousand times over runnin' from that evil dog catcher…' she involuntarily shuddered. His face had been wolfish, his hair had been spiderish, and his breath stank.

All of these facts coming together to why she decided to rescue this poor puppy, and nothing Sanosuke could say would make her give it up.

'Dammit,' she cursed silently to herself. She just *knew* his name would pop up again. Misao didn't know she'd be squatting on the balls of her heels hovering over a slumbering yellow Labrador, but she did know she'd be thinking about *him*. The memory of *her* - the *her* that *he* had been with – were slowly… too slowly disappearing. Not because the woman hadn't been loud, oh no. What stuck in Misao's mind now was he sound of him… his groaning, and moaning, and grunting.

It was one thing for him to bust in through the door and accuse her of being a slut, when all he did was turn around and pulled a red light special. Her fingernails began to dig into her knees and she forced herself up and began to clumsily pace around the room. She wished she wasn't alone just then. There was no one to talk about this to…

Misao fingered a circular picture frame that she'd unpacked at some point. She really couldn't remember anything other than what happened with Sano… or Aoshi. It was as if her whole life was suddenly centered on her newly founded roommates. Nothing before ever seemed so hard, and no one else seemed to make her feel so…

"Kaoru what should I do?" she pouted at the photo of her and her old classmate. Her confidante. Her numera una amiga. She glanced at her book bag, remembering her cell phone. 'Hm.'

*-*-*-*

Looking down at the table setting, Aoshi thought that now might be a good time to schedule the chore duties around the apartment. This had never previously been an issue, but due to the fact he saw himself drowning in domesticity any second now… He'd have to lessen the probability that he'd be wearing an apron anytime soon. For crying out loud, he was already dropping the kids to school…

Turning back towards the kitchen, he swiped his hand over his face quickly. Tae had arrived, prompt and on time to cater for the evening's meal. And now all that had to happen was that it had to go smoothly. Sanosuke wouldn't stain this house with any high-heeled filth, Misao wouldn't be throwing punches, and Aoshi would… well, be his old self again. The one who lived in the comfortable cold and isolation of his own being, what happened to that man? His life had slowly collapsed, stair for stair, and everything he was accustomed to was gradually changing. Or, in some cases, not so gradually.

He was living with a female. He was living with his half-brother. Both of which were quickly approaching, or had already arrived at, their sexual prime. Here he was… babysitting. For the thousandth time since his mother's phone call, he asked himself how and why he ended up where he was.

With any luck, these two will be his biggest problems. He could avoid Sanjou, Kamatari, … all of them. St. Catharine's was now Aoshi-less territory, that's all. He'll just have to avoid it, and that was done easily enough if Misao would stay out of trouble.

Yeah, right.

Taking a deep cleansing breath, Aoshi stalked over to the bedrooms and knocked on both of their doors. Maybe he should get a bell to jingle, and pronounce, 'Dinner is served' in some phony British accent. That would be just dahling.

Making his way to the head of the table, he stood there, awaiting for his two latest projects to accompany him.

*-*-*-*

The knock on his bedroom door was made one with the grumble in his stomach. Sanosuke petted his friend, el estomago, and soothed it with the soft whisper to himself, "… chow time."

Misao jumped as if caught red-handed, and her cell phone clattered out of her hand onto the floor. Double checking herself in the mirror, for whose benefit – who knows, and then remembered her furry friend. "Ne, you're going to need some din din, too, huh? Yes you are…" she hoisted the pup up and dangled him over head. Cradling him under one arm she opened her bedroom door, letting herself out and right into Sano.

"Look, I couldn't get ya to evict the damn mutt, but I sure as hell ain't eatin' wit'em," and before she could protest, Sano had already snatched the dog up by the cuff and redeposited Pochi into Misao's bedroom, closing the door. Her mouth was working as if to start yelling at him, but he just motioned her onward and pressed forward towards the smell of food. 'Let's see if that dog'll do some damage so Misao'll get rid of the blasted thing…'

Aoshi didn't like the way Sanosuke was grinning as he entered the room. It was his 'I've just done something someone else won't like, but I sure as hell feel big-balled havin' done it' grin. He had a feeling that if he was just able to get through dinner, than everything else will just fall into place.

He also had a feeling hell was going to freeze over.

Once Misao had seated herself, Aoshi sat himself, and gave Sanosuke the go ahead glance to seat himself. Of course, his brother scowled at this, practically screaming through his eyeballs, "I'm not a kid dammit!" A statement, which when said, just by thinking it implied the opposite. And then it happened.

Silence. It was deafening in the way it said nothing, told nothing, and made nothing better. Aoshi wondered which one of them – meaning the other two people sitting with him – would last.

In the minds of the other two people at the table (save the half of Sanosuke which was currently dominated by the demands of his stomach), there were questions. Yes, questions. The kind of questions that you never said out loud, either because you knew you'd get slapped or you knew you didn't want to know the answer to.

'Did that pansy Soujirou lay a fucking finger on you?' …

'Why did you have to bring that woman home?... oh wait, *hey*! I asked that already!' Misao straightened up in her seat, as though this conversation were being held outside of the confines of her skull.

_"Where do you get off bringing a girl home?"_

Nodding to herself, this time in her head, she took a drink from her glass of water. Blinking a bit, she realized she had a glass of water. Then she began to pay attention to the fact that the table was set. Part of her then also decided to take into account that dishes do not have legs, contrary to Disney's Beauty and the Beast, and the table does not set itself. And Aoshi took this moment, as Misao seemed so terribly enraptured in the table setting *anyway* to bring up his earlier consideration of chores.

"Sano. You're night to do the dishes." Aoshi could have possibly have put it another way, one less conflict-begging. But he saw no reason to fend off the havoc any longer, it was bound to return in its blaze of glory, so why not now?

Glaring from his plate at his older brother, Sanosuke had the instinct to retort. However, to everybody's surprise, he hadn't. Aoshi didn't look like he really needed to be fucked with today, for some odd reason. So rather than give Aoshi a piece of his mind, he chose to ask what was on his mind instead.

"Rough day at school, Aoshi-nii?" The skidding of Aoshi's fork across his plate was enough to cause a triumphant grin to pass Sano's lips.

===

Author's Note:

Hah! Thought you got away from me, didya? Well anyway, someone reviewed saying that this fic just seems to be going nowhere. Which… well, is true, but isn't. It's true because it *seems* that way. It just kind of seems that all of these things are coming but nothing is actually happening. But I really do have it planned out, please believe me. ;_;* I'm just a long-winded writer. What I'm afraid of is that maybe I have too much planned to happen, and that it'll all happen all at once. u.u; 

On another note… proofreading, grammatical errors, and the like… such things fall under the realm of constructive criticism. ^_^; If you see anything ('specially if it's driving you crazy or something) please feel free to email me about it. Keep in mind, a lot of these chapters were *not* beta-read before posting. At best they were just re-read by me, and I have this odd tendency to read what I want to read. ^_^;;

I'm not suggesting anyone MST (Mystery Science Theatre, for those who aren't familiar)… for two reasons: a) for a fanfic this long, I *really* wouldn't want anyone to waste that much of their lives attempting it, and b) because MST's are … generally negative and not constructive at all. Rather they pick apart *everything* to the point where it can almost be obnoxious – which is why, for those who are not aware, they are against FF.net rules. (So are posting lone previews and prologues and the like… who knew? ^_^; I just re-read the rules the other day, it's a good thing to keep up to date with.) I think people who post MST's on FF.net are just doing it to be cruel anyway – those are issues that are either personal opinion or should be taken up with the author directly for style/grammar/spelling issues and the like.

 I was thinking of breaking up the story into volumes or something… I dunno. Any suggestions  on how to deal with the length are welcome. Sorry again for the lateness of the update, I have finals, papers, and on top of that I went and got sick. . Best wishes to all my readers.

(That was a long note huh. O.o;  That's why I'm trying to put my ANs at the end of chapters so they're easier to well… skim/ignore, as I often do when I read. .;;;…)


	30. Chapter 30 - Cloudy Skies

Sanosuke leered over the bathroom sink as he brushed his teeth. Now dressed down for bed, in a pair of mesh shorts, he found solace in his handsome reflection and in cursing his brother. 'Stupid Aoshi, making me wash the fuc –' He spat into the sink. '–king dishes.' Running his toothbrush under the running water, the tall twenty-year old boy (heh) awkwardly bent down and flushed out the last of the minty freshness from his mouth. Straightening up, and spitting once more for good measure, he turned off the taps. However, there was still a tap. A tap tap tapping on the chamber floor.

He looked down. His foot was tapping, in the general direction of Misao's door. It was like it was telling him something. There was something he was supposed to do, something he was waiting to say. Right. Looking left, and then right again, as if to make sure there was no one else around that could do this for him, Sanosuke slowly approached the door.

And quickly retreated back to his room, tossing several articles from the floor around the room. Fishing into the pockets of the pants he'd been wearing that day, he pulled out a small velvet box. 'Right, gift. Right. Good.' He looked back at the door he'd left open in his wake, which allowed him to see straight through to the face of Misao's door. Sanosuke took one step forward… and two steps back. He had to prepare.

*-*-*-*

Totally oblivious to the pacing idiot in the next room who was rattling off one speech after the other to himself, Misao reached for her phone again. She'd spent all the rest of the time before dinner referring to the manual and installing all the numbers of anyone she ever knew into it. Honestly, there had been no intention to program so many phone numbers in, nor was there any intention to call half of those people. It was just that after the first three numbers were in, Misao was so psyched having figured out how to do it right, that she simply couldn't stop herself.

For crying out loud, her fourth grade teacher was in there. But this toy was a good distraction… from things. She would have to check with Aoshi if she could call Kyoto on her new fangled doo-hickey.

Luckily enough, the puppy, allowed to run ramped around her room, did little damage. No broken glass, or bones, so this was a good start to a beautiful friendship. Well, okay, there's a sock that's gone missing in action, but that was bound to happen eventually, Misao reasoned.

*-*-*-*

"YOSH!" Sanosuke smacked his fist into the palm of his other hand. Okay, he had it ready. His spiel that would get him off. Wait, no, that was a different spiel… but the one that was going to make him and Misao okay. Or so he hoped.

The last couple of days had been weird. It was like his right hand was cut off when he wasn't looking. Everywhere he went it was like there was a weasel shaped cutout standing beside him. A little dotted frame of where a girl should be, laughing, yelling, kicking… but at least she would be there. He positioned himself in front of her bathroom door, curling his hands over his hips. Pursing his lips, he discovered that his hands can't be on his hips to open the door.

'Strategy, Sagara. If you knock on this door, she'll *know* it's you... and she ain't happy with ya right now. But if you use the *other* door…' There was a thundering that rumbled through the innocent tiled floor as Sano ran out and skidded back into his room, then out the other door and positioned himself in a ready stance in front of Misao's door. This wasn't going to be easy like when they were kids.

It seemed like more problems just seemed to be trying to sever their ties. He couldn't wrestle and tousle her like he used to. There were certain things he knew not to say around her. Sagara Sanosuke may be a crass playboy run by his nether regions (either his dangling parts or he's just being an ass)… but there was a sensitive lout somewhere in there. On some level Misao had to know that if she ever needed anybody to do anything under this blue sky, on this green earth – Sano would do it for her if he possibly could.

It wasn't easy like before. You can't kiss heartache better. You can't just invite your seventeen-year old practically-your-sister into bed with you after every fight.

Well, he could, but.

Sano quickly decked himself , 'FOCUS… gift? Check.' He patted his pocket, and the small velvet box fumbled about. 'Speech?... check.' Going over his lines one more time in his head, he mentally proofread what he was going to say and exactly the way he was going to say it. 'Is that it?'

Before his brain could answer, his body was working ahead of him, and knocked on the door. His hand snatched the wrist of the knocking one and he brought it close to mutter curses at it.

*-*-*-*

There was a knocking on her chamber door. Misao blinked from her place on the floor. Idly petting the puppy, she got up and walked towards the door. Her presumption, as Sano has thought, was that it was Aoshi and he needed to tell her something or talk about school. So, she didn't even give it a second thought when she got up and opened the door.

However, she did not want to be facing who was on the other side. Here stood her roosterhead – No. Sanosuke. What the hell was he doing? 'He's arguing with his own fist? Knucklehead.' She wanted to laugh at him, but seeing his topless chiseled form poised out in front of her (in the comical stance it was in) just brought her back to what she was trying to forget. Quickly, she put both hands and all her weight behind the door in order to slam it in his face.

However she wasn't quick enough. "OH NO! No ya don't!" Misao knew she couldn't win tug-o-war with Sano any day of the year, but her pride didn't let her not put up a good fight. He was braced against the other side of the door, already half way in the room. One of his larger hands had happened to close over one of hers in the struggle, and he said in a quieter voice, "… dammit Misao, we need to talk." Reviewing briefly in his head, he noted that his originally opening had not been planned. Preparing ahead of time was seeming to be a useless venture when put up against real life.

"We… have… not--…nothing to ….talk… ABOUT!" She was speaking through her aerobic efforts to get the door closed. It was pointless now, since he was already in the room, but she was still fighting it. Misao was still fighting him. She heard a deep sigh from overhead, and suddenly the door became a helluva lot lighter. Sanosuke tried not to laugh when she rammed her head smack into the door. The pressure she had been putting behind it caused her to crash into the door, shutting it to the point where it almost shook off its hinges.

Misao looked like she was going to explode. Her face was red, and her knuckles were white. She could absently feel the pain of her nails digging crescent moons into her skin. Her head was bowed down, as she stood with her back against the wall. 'Out of sight, out of mind, out of sight out of mind…' Somehow, she reasoned that if she didn't look at him he'd just go away and she wouldn't have to think about it.

Already she felt the tears stinging in her eyelids. She didn't know why she felt this way, this strongly about it. She knew how he was about women, and his little flings. And she knew she was always going to be a boyish underdeveloped violent girl in his eyes… Even with knowing all of these things, she couldn't bring herself to stop hurting. Misao tried to figure out what the feeling was the hollow thudding of her heart as there was a pang somewhere around where her stomach should be. Then, he did the first thing she didn't want him to do. He spoke.

"Wea…" No, bad time to call her names. "Misao. Look, there's something… here. And like, uhm…" That whole speech he had prepared, remember the one? The entire thing went out of the window. He hadn't rehearsed this. There was nothing he could do to prepare for the pain that would overtake her features. It was this uneasy feeling that just shivered through his chest, and he tried to swallow down the lump in his throat, but couldn't manage to shake that feeling. Was he always going to be a fuck up?

'Not now,' he reprimanded himself letting out a breath he didn't know he was holding. This was about Misao. Sanosuke did what he usually did in situations like this, whether he realized it or not. He stopped listening to both heads on his body, and just went with his big lunkhead heart.

"Misao." His hands rested palms down on the door, cornering her to it. Dammit, if she would just look at him, she'd know he was sorry. But she wouldn't do it. No matter how hard he stared down at the ebony head of hair, it was not enough to will the girl to look at him. His heels ground into the carpet, and he tried to call to her again. "You're pissed at me."

Her hands flew up to cover her face, and her fingers dug into the delicate skin of her forehead and raked their way down. 'No fucking shit, Sherlock!' she wanted to scream. He was just too close to her. Being much smaller than Sano, she probably could have easily slipped out from under his arms or something, but she felt pinned. It was like his gaze was drilling a hole into her skull, and nailed her to the floor. There was a shaky feeling starting to happen around her knees, and she then saw her hands were shaking. From fear, anger… or a little mix of the two.

Then Sano asked the impossibly stupid question. "Why?"

*-*-*-*

There was a loud slamming of the door, which Aoshi could hear all the way from inside his bathroom. He'd taken the precaution of using a brand new toothbrush, one of his spares, having known that Sanosuke had been in his bathroom. Having awfully vibrant memories of what Sano could pull, he thought it safer this way. Sighing, Aoshi glanced up at the ceiling searching it for answers. Should he go over there and do something? Was it even any of his business?

Was that puppy a serious mistake? He unconsciously crossed his pinky and ring fingers on his left hand hoping that loud noise had nothing to do with the new addition to their haphazardly thrown together family.

He stood there for some time, contemplating what course of action he would take. 'Misao…' and worse, '… Sano.' Returning his gaze to his reflection, he saw the imprint of a frown on his lips. He didn't have all the facts of the rift that went on between those two, but something happened, and it was having negative reverberations. 

Why did he always sound like he was doing an autopsy on life when he thought silently to himself?

*-*-*-*

'WHY?!' She wanted to scream back at him. She wanted to hit him. She wanted to breakdown into tears crying if for no other reason than she didn't have an answer for him. Her heel pressed into the door, and her slight frame trembled as it was pent up with rage and frustration. Wasn't it enough that she was upset?

Wasn't it enough that she was there when they…

From where Sano stood, things weren't looking good. He wasn't planning on this. His practice had gone cut and dry – find the problem, solve it, and go back to normal. An Aoshi-gical way of though. There was silence, except for the noise of Misao's ragged breathing through choked back sobs.

Pochi started barking at his owner's distress, and growled at the oversized giant that was making her upset. No, this was not how Sano had planned it at all.

"Geez, Misao, what do you want me to do? Stop dating altogether just because you're here?" It took him a couple fractions of a second to realize he said that outloud. "Wa-wai-wait…." He made the mistake of taking his hand off the door to gesture apologetically, but that just gave Misao an easy opening to escape his piercing gaze.

"Oh nonono, don't let me get in the way of your social calendar!" She spat back, her hands on her hips. Misao's back was to him, and she sniffled once or twice, fighting the urge to cry. If those women came first, than fine, so be it. It wasn't any of her business anyway, right? Forcing her chin up, her nose pointed to the ceiling, as if to keep the tears from running down her cheeks.

"Don't you start on me with that!" Sano ripped away from the door waving a finger at her. "You know you come before any of those chicks! They're just for –"

"For what?! Screwing? Fucking? Sucking? Blowing?!" Sano paled at Misao's sudden outburst. The last thing he planned for was to be reintroduced to the blaze in her eyes. It didn't help his shock that she was speaking in… well, Sano-talk. "I heard it *all*!..." She choked on her own voice and swallowed hard to recover, her voice trailing off to just over a whisper. "… I heard it all…" (Even if it had not occurred precisely in that order)

How is it that none of her kunai had found their way to the light and Sano felt like thousands were stabbing him in the heart at that very moment? So he hadn't imagined it, and it wasn't just some part of his mind fabricating it. He heard her. It was Misao. She was on the other side of the door, while he was… Something was climbing up his throat, and he bit his lip hard to prevent it from lurching onto the carpet. He suddenly had a flashback of the horribly traumatizing moment when he'd walked in on his parents doing some… consummating.

But even that wasn't as bad as this. That had been for love. Sweet, sensual. Not like his… which were often romps that were alcoholic and honestly? Hazy. And this was Misao. *Misao*… his kid sister, his side kick, his swift kick in the rear. His hand reached for her shoulder, and she jerked away as if he were the fires of hell itself, and turned her back on him.

"… Misao…" he ventured in a softer voice than he could imagine. She just shook her head furiously, her braid whipping from side to side. "… I'll make it better. I always do, Misao, just please…" Thankfully she was still within arms' reach and he could gently curl his hands over his shoulders. His voice had been almost shaky, and he was still clinging to his inner alpha male to not reveal any weakness. He wasn't quite ready to turn her around yet, not sure what kind of a look he'd have to face.

Lulling her head to the side, her eyes still cast downward; she could only give him a sidelong glance. Misao was met with the sight of the top of Sano's head, bowing towards her back. Those heavy hands were on her shoulders, they were the same strong hands that had lifted her as a baby and held her as a child. And they were trembling, in their very tips.

Those words… When she was little, Sano-nii' could always make it better. He was always there, when she was scared, and needed someone to talk to… Whenever she got in over her head, he would just reach in there and fish her out like it was nobody's business. As she couldn't bear to ever see him hurt, it was the same for him. They had always needed each other this way, as if the other made them a whole. Grown so dependent in youth, it was just this partnership and true friendship that had steered them to where they were now. 

And the forecast was cloudy.

===

Author's Note:

Uhm, it's been pointed out to me that my chapters are short. O.o I personally never noted this, because I've been trying to make them all … about the same length if possible. The reason they may seem short is that oftentimes when I type them, I use 14-16 pt. font because I sit a ways from my computer. (The pros and cons of the cordless keyboard. ^_^;) Is this a general consensus? 'cause if it's true then I could start consolidating chapters to make the fic… well, at least *seem* shorter. ^_^;

Still looking for any fanart, omake… anything at all that was inspired by this fic. ^_^

And on a totally random note, you know you've been writing a lot of Kenshin fanfiction when the entire cast has their names added to your dictionary for spell check. O.o;;;


	31. Chapter 31 - Sweaty Silk

After having a quick shower and slipping into a pair of dark burgundy silk pajama pants, Aoshi went about doing some last minute preparations for the following day. He brought up his leather briefcase from beside his desk and rested it on his desk beside his shutdown laptop. When he arrived at the office the next morning, Omasu would've already hard on the case to collect the information he sought. Okon would have already sent the cell phone numbers of Sano and Misao to their respective parental units. As he packed his briefcase, he was sourly reminded that real life would begin the following day.

Granted, today wasn't the greatest either, as he was confronted with damn near every skeleton that his closet bore. Tomorrow he would have to recall his senses and quell all of those odd ended 'emotions' as they called them. He'd had far too many a rendezvous with those in the recent past. The other end of the apartment hadn't made any more crashes or slams since that initial one before he hopped into the shower.

He wasn't quite sure if that was a good sign or a bad sign. Zipping his briefcase shut, and closing his eyes as well, he decided with new resolve that he would stay out of it. Misao spelled trouble, and Sanosuke was it incarnate. With any luck they'll cancel each other out, preferably without killing one another. Otherwise Aoshi would be stuck having to see his mother at their funeral.

On that sick and selfishly twisted note, Aoshi felt the cold creep back into his system as he strode toward his bed to do some reading. His system had been introduced to the warmth of care, and the human embrace, all in these short four days. It had to be stopped.

*-*-*-*

In the other end of the apartment, tension was still thick, and eerily silent. Sano hopes had ridden vainly when he felt Misao's slender digits curl around his pinky finger as it rested on her shoulder. He saw it as a sign of truce, of resolution. However, it was just a motion to remove her shoulder from his hold. His arms dropped limply at his sides as his chocolate brown eyes sought some sort sign, anything that would reassure him things between them were okay now. The problem was out in the open now, right? That was half of making things better, wasn't it? It sure as hell didn't feel like it.

She wasn't at all that comfortable right now with him touching her for some odd reason. Perhaps the fact that she knew where his hands had been was urking her just the tiniest bit. She'd never responded to him this way, never turned him away. It even frightened her the littlest bit. Why did things have to change… You think if you watch enough movies, or enough TV that you know all the ins and outs of what it is to be a teenager. Things always work out, the girl gets the guy, everybody can be friends again, and everyone goes along their merry way. Finding that her knees didn't want to stand for very much longer, Misao settled herself against the wall in the pillows of her bed.

Sano was aware, as opposed to actually watching, as Misao curled up around a pillow seeking comfort from the feathery tuft. He was sitting on the corner of the bed, just able to catch a glimpse of her out of the corner of his eye. Hunched over, with his elbows on his knees, he swiped his hands over his face. If he could just go over there, hug her, and make things okay, he would. If he thought that would work, he'd do it. If he thought he'd leave this room that way with the least amount of bruises possible, he would. He'd just crawl up Misao's bed, drag her to his chest and hold her for all that he was worth. It worked all the time when they were kids.

But they weren't kids anymore. 'She's not a kid anymore…' he swallowed a new lump that formed in his throat. Blinking at nothing, he recalled what was in his pocket. He'd seen it in the store window that day, and all he could really see was Misao. Any other day, before today, he would've never have thought to buy her such a thing. Maybe kunai, or he'd get her something like Epson's salts for her feet as a joke. But those were gifts for Misao the figher, and Misao the kid sister. Both of which he had always felt responsible for, day in and day out, whether she would've ever asked for it.

Misao watched, almost intently as Sano withdrew something from his pocket and began turning it over in his fingers. He looked lost. She'd seen so many sides of Sano since they'd moved here, it was surprising that anything else would shock her now. But Sanosuke looked… pitiable. The muscles in his back were tensing and moved slowly with his calculated breathing. Each muscle in his arm moving ever so slightly as his fingers took the most delicate care of whatever he was holding. It was like she was watching the synapses from his brain sending messages to his fingers from muscle to defined muscle. She never had to look so closely at Sano before, and it was… well, it was unnerving was what it was. Her head jerked suddenly when she jumped when he looked like he was coming towards her.

He stopped. The often smooth Sagara Sanosuke, was doing a crappy job of being stealth. He was hoping he could just sort of inch over there, and hand it to her with some whispered words of acknowledgement of the girl… woman… female she'd become. However, he was only succeeding in ruffling her bedding a bit and throttling himself into further feelings of self doubt. If it had been anyone else in the whole wide world, it would have been easier. Anyone at all under the fucking sun –

What either of them would've given to read the others mind.

*-*-*-*

Something was wrong. It was in the air. He could feel it. It was why he couldn't concentrate on a single word he was reading. Aoshi soon found himself sweating in his not-so-cheap silk pajama pants, doing practice kata on his carpet. It was in the air.

He'd felt this way with her. When he'd upset her earlier, without realizing it. He'd presumed too much about their relationship. 'Relationship.' So many definitions of the word… Aoshi wasn't quite sure if he wanted to dwell on that and pick it apart yet. But then he could so clearly remember how he had rounded that corner to follow her, and found her with… that… 'Seijurou.' Aoshi's expression never changed, but his teeth ground together behind his mask. He just kept solace that she was in chemistry with that midget bald guy. Not because he would assume that a little large headed mustached man wouldn't make advances towards the pretty young female, it was just that Misao would easily be able to take him if he were ever to try anything… Surely, her chemistry teacher would be a safe bet.

But he'd seen how she looked at *him*. That teacher. The same way many of his former classmates had looked at his quote-unquote "counselor." Misao would consider it, as he considered – he nearly laughed. 'Sanjou-sensei.' He hadn't called her that since before they began their tryst. No, Aoshi was glad that she was taking chemistry, but that guaranteed nothing. His hand fisted and then cut through the way with unspeakable grace. Finishing another masterful combination of kicks and punches, he took a readied stance on the floor. Aoshi's feet were planted firmly on the floor, just over shoulder's width, his knees bent to achieve the proper balance. Shifting his footing slightly against the soft carpet, he found that the silk was sticking to him in places he would rather have it not brush against. Sweat had a habit of doing that. He tried to ignore it.

It wasn't easy either. He never found it so difficult to focus before. It had to be that upset in 'the force' that all those Star Wars' folk always talk about. Or the fact that he had the images of his tryst combined with the ideas of Misao participating in such activity added to the reality that silk has a way of awakening the more sensitive nerves of his anatomy. This just prompted him to become more furious in his exercise, to force all of these… *feelings* out of his mind.

But no matter how many times his limbs sliced through the space around him in liquid movements, he couldn't shake the feeling. Something was wrong. Or something was about to happen. 'Expect the unexpected.'

Yeah, since he'd been doing *such* a great job at that so far.

*-*-*-*

Minutes ticked by. And through the fury that bubbled through her veins, Misao couldn't help but be just a tad curious. It looked like a box. And she would guess it was for her, as Sano probably wouldn't walk around half naked in sweatpants with a velvety box in his pocket for no reason. All the while he was drawing closer to her on the bed. Granted, he was doing it very slowly and being uncharacteristically clumsy about it, but he was coming closer.

The silence was unnerving. Even Pochi could feel it, and he started to pace back and forth in his trunk. If for no other reason, he was stressed because he couldn't see his owner and that… tall spiky guy was upsetting her. For first impressions, Sano wasn't on the pup's good side.

Sano was only partly oblivious to Misao curling into a tighter ball as he inched closer. This was not how he practiced it. About half way along the side of the bed he stopped, wiggling his toes into the carpet. 'SAGARA. Be a man. Men give women things… other than sex,' he would have grinned at that thought under normal circumstances, however, this was just not the time. Suddenly a gripping fear clenched over his heart. Everything had gone wrong so far, what if she didn't like it? What if she just threw her head back and laughed at him and called him a sap?

Well, anything was better than this. Just having her stare at him with the hurt swimming in those indigo pools was unsettling. There was another awkward pause. Misao was looking at him, he was looking at the gift, and Pochi was whining because he couldn't see anything.

"Shut up ya damn mutt!" Sano blurted out, taking out his confusion on the poor pup. Did Pochi relent? No, he barked as fiercely as a puppy could. Growling back at the furball, he started to get up and stalk towards the trunk. He pushed up on a free hand, the velvet box in the other as he turned to stand up, but once he was up he stopped. Something was wrong. Something was… missing? He offered up his empty hands to himself and blinked.

"Ne, what's this?" Misao had lurched forward and used her weasel skills to snatch the box from him in his fleeting anger at her puppy. Then she settled back into where she had been, but seemingly more relaxed. Sano looked at her over his shoulder, and felt all his tension relax all at once. It was the Misao he knew, the girl he…

'Well of course I love her, she's like my sister,' he reinforced silently in his head. Whether all of him was currently agreeing with the stance, it was what would stand for now, and that was that, godammit. But besides that, he felt almost goofy as he had to somehow explain himself. He posed to match his feeling of overall silliness by scratching the back of his head, and looking away sheepishly.

"It's just this thing that I saw when I was at this place, see…" Oh the great Sagara genius shines. Misao cocked her head to the side, and looked up at him. There was nothing but curiosity in those bright eyes. 'It WORKED?!' He was suddenly impressed with himself, and puffed his chest out, planting both hands on his hips. "Well, I just thought y'know since you're… uhm…" The cool was running out, and he scratched his cheek searching for words.

Misao slowly opened the little box, and gasped. "YOU bought these?" Sano couldn't help but wince at her patronizing tone of disbelief. She looked totally mesmerized as she looked into the box at the shining sapphire stud earrings. Swallowing slowly, she glanced up at Sano and back down at them, "… f-for me?"

'No, I bought them for the *other* blue-eyed girl who lives with me, spent her whole life with me, and was mad as fucking hell at me,' his face contorted and he looked up at the ceiling as he tried to hold his tongue. Actually *thinking* before he spoke, he dropped back onto his seat on the bed, temporarily forgetting his furry nemesis. "Yeah well… they just… made me think of you, I guess…" he stumbled over his words, feeling cliché, as he twiddled his thumbs. Suddenly he broke back into character when he heard her stifle a giggle, "Don't you get used to this or nothing! I'm not gonna run out and empty my wallet every time I do something stupid!"

Lucky for his wallet, huh?

*-*-*-*

Aoshi tripped over his own foot for the first time in… well, a really long time. It was gone. Just like that, as if that uneasy feeling had been a wisp of smoke. Suddenly the unsettling feeling had just left him, and he felt himself become relaxed by his movements, finally. That rift in the force is a fickle thing.

===

Author's Note:

Yeah sorry, that was a short chapter, but I thought it was a good place to cut it off. ^_^; Reviews super welcome and encouraged. Emails and stuff also welcome for longer messages and criticisms/corrections. (Remember, a lot of these chapters were never beta-read. @.@;)


	32. Chapter 32 - Where's Freud when you need...

Sanosuke *thought* that all he had to do was get her something and that would sate her. And although the weasel seemed quite contented with her new glimmering toys, it looked like she was going to milk this for all this is worth. Not only had he done something wrong now, he'd "permanently traumatized to the point of irreversible damage," according to her. He had successfully marred her and any future relationships she would possibly have with _either sex._

The fact that she said *that* traumatized *him*.

So here Sano was laying down again staring at the ceiling, in a worse way than he was before. Although Misao was *permitting* him to walk her to school to next day, he was on a strict probation. This he loosely translated as "no sex in the champagne room" – aka. anywhere within a ten mile radius. And actually, he could probably pull it off *outside* the ten mile radius mark… however, he didn't think it was worth risking 18 years of work.

'Work, that's what all this is now, 'cause she *had* to have been a girl…' he also concluded his life would have been a helluva lot easier had Misao been born a boy. Although then the alleged "he" would've just suggested that he were gay, and Sano having, without a shadow of a doubt, a reason to kill Soujirou. Not that he saw very much in his way right now…

It wasn't bad enough picturing guys all over Misao, but girls as well? He glanced down at his lap unappreciative of the fact that his parts were not paying attention to the parts that were supposed to be in control. Groaning inwardly, he covered himself from no one in particular with a pillow and tried not to think about what he knew he was going to dream about all. Night. Long.

*-*-*-*

Misao, on the other hand, was snickering triumphantly. Outfitted in her pajamas, she had pulled the puppy's truck to sit at the side of the bed. (A mistake she will sourly regret once the puppy woke up, and after the puppy relieved itself rather stinkily onto the newspaper lining. At least she remembered to put it on the opposite side of the bed than the one she woke up on, saving her from stepping directly in it.) She had spent the last couple of minutes modeling her new gems in the mirror. Sano had forgotten that her ears weren't pierced, but he'll be paying for that soon enough.

It's not like she hadn't want them pierced before. Jiya just didn't appreciate the stylings of a twelve-year-old trying to pierce her own ears with kunai.

*-*-*-*

Aoshi, in his private escalated reservoir from the madness of his roommates, was dreaming. He hadn't remembered exactly when the dream started, but he knew it was a dream. It was the kind that felt almost real, and it took you a minute to realize you weren't awake. He rarely dreamed, but when he did, the first thing he tried to do was read. Technically speaking, a person can interpret what is written on a page before them while dreaming… however, can't literally read it. Had something to do with left brain, right brain, but anyway, none of that was explaining the dream – soon to turn nightmare, he was having.

It began like most of his other dreams, where he climbed out of bed and went on going on about starting his day. However, he quickly discovered that Sano and Misao were both in his bathroom, making a mess. Because he knew full well Misao wouldn't dare – and Sano wouldn't if Aoshi were home – to enter his quarters, it had to be a dream. His second proof was when he forced himself to try and read the toothpaste tube in Misao's hand. She was wearing what very well may have been the shortest bath robe that he'd ever seen in his life, and it sure as hell wasn't working with his in-dream morning stiffy.

"Ne, Aoshi-nii'?" He internally winced. Even in a dream, Aoshi didn't like showing his emotions if he could possibly stand it. Perhaps that old man had instilled some superstitions in his young mind that he didn't realize, or mayhaps the Shinomori heir was paranoid as hell. Either way, the sound of Misao wearing that little, and calling him big-brother was not working for him right now. She sloshed a toothbrush around in her mouth, till a little stream of white foam began to drip down her chin. Aoshi could seriously give less of a damn of whatever Sano was doing right now.

Misao unceremoniously slurped up the offending droplet, and promptly spit into the sink. Aoshi watched each and every rivulet of water that clung to the curve of her chin as she splashed water in her mouth, which was lapping at the stream coming from the sink. He would have to remember to order a less phallic plumbing units. It was then he noticed Sano who had noticed him.

"Oh, so you're hard too?" Aoshi was cursing in the back of his mind, as his face began to flush. Apparently not *all* his blood went down to his pants. This didn't compare to the "coming to school naked" dream. This was far, far more terrifying. He did *not* want to see Sanosuke with an erection, nor did he want Sanosuke to see *him* with one. Let alone over their mutual adoptive sister (and legal aunt). He felt himself falling towards the door frame, his hand clasping at it tightly, as he cradled his stomach with the other. He closed his eyes, shrouding the dream in darkness, trying to block it out and force himself awake.

There was her voice. Misao's voice whispering sultry in his ear, "…ne… Aoshi-sama…" her voice dipped to lower tones, as he could almost feel the tingling sensation of her fingertips over his shoulders. "… don't fall asleep on me now…"

His eyes snapped open, and actually widened to stare down into the pristine features of Misao in a little (too little) silk nightie. Sano was standing behind her, in nothing but a matching pair of silk boxers. Coincidentally, all of them were color coordinated; he glanced down to make sure he still had clothes on. Aoshi breathed a sigh of relief, hoping against hope that this would not be one of *those* dreams. But there she was, innocent and yet seductive, with her hands encircling his hips, while Sano's encircled hers…

He wanted to scream. He wanted to push them both away. This was just *wrong*. Sanosuke was his brother, his flesh and blood. Or at least half of him was, and there was no way anyone could have sex with half a person – otherwise Aoshi might've… "NO."

Misao and Sano didn't seem at all phased by the fact that Aoshi had basically screamed in both their faces.

"Ne, Aoshi-nii'… play with me…" she stuck out a pouty bottom lip, promptly licking the top one. Her head nuzzled into his chest, drawing him closer, and he could feel the heat of his body rise to melting. What was worse than this? Because there was something worse than this. There had to be. This was a nightmare.

Sano was standing behind her with his head thrown back, and his eyes closed. Aoshi was disgustingly focused on the bead of sweat that had drifted down the side of his face and was juggling off of Sano's adam's apple. Aoshi shut his eyes again, trying to move his legs. He couldn't. Glancing down fearfully, he noted that he was currently rooted into the floor. As in, he had not feet. His ankles just sat over the carpet, as if his feet were permanently embedded into it forever and ever. And just when he thought it couldn't get worse, he felt someone behind him.

He'd had sexually oriented dreams before, but none of them ever included… *him*. Aoshi physically shuddered, and dream-Misao apparently took this as a hint to press onward – and downward on his body. "Stop this madness right now! Do you hear me, Misao?! Sano stop her! Stop her now!" Aoshi could hear his voice echo into the bathroom. It sounded strange, mostly because he'd never heard it get so loud since he was a boy.

A new set of hands, effeminate hands wrapped their way around his shoulders. Aoshi found that his arms weren't moving either. But that was because he found they were chained to the door frame. Definitely not one of his normal sex dreams, although some of those consisted of chains, but *he* was never the one in them.

'Although,' he reasoned with himself, as the dream seemed to go on pause for several moments. 'My life as it's been has been a series of obstacles which in turn forced me to repress my true emotions and prevented me from forming any long-standing ties with anyone…' His mind went on a mild psychological rant, which he was finding some salvation in. The bathroom setting had begun to disappear, and he was about to see the light of day…

"It's not over yet, Aoshichi…" Aoshi involuntarily jerked and shuddered. 'No, not him. Please not him. Please. If you just don't look, he'll go away. He'll go away.' "Ne, it's been a while since we've shared a room, ne, Aoshichi? Too long…"

Could a person die in a dream? Aoshi was really wishing for his kodachi to manifest themselves in his hand *really* soon. He couldn't move. And Misao and Sano were… in front of him, practically on top of him… and Kamatari was… He shut his eyes tightly, 'Out of sight, out of mind, out of sight, out of mind…' He tried to meditate, to escape this horrible dream. Misao, he could believe. Sano was just negative spill off that was always going to be associated with Misao. 'Masaka, those two can't really be…' Aoshi didn't want to open his eyes just then, because he didn't want to see the two of them making out in front of his eyes, let alone, pressed up against his chest.

If he wasn't so concerned with the girly man whose hand was currently petting his thighs, he would've almost been offended by the fact that his brother and *their* AUNT… he calmly kept repeating in his head over and over… were treating him like a wall to be pressed up against. He shut his eyes tightly, trying again to break free and wake up.

It had always worked before, the harder he thought the faster he woke up. His logic always broke him free of fantasy, because it required a different side of the brain to awaken, thus, awakening him. 'Okay, focus. Sano is only here because Misao is here. I have no sexual inclinations towards my own brother. His association with me is biological, therefore, I can address him mentally in a biological fashion. He is a product of illicit sex; therefore him having elicit sex is justifiable…'

The touches he was feeling he knew weren't real. They didn't feel like skin against skin, but just clusters of nerves all centered around each fingertip that he concocted in his sick and twisted perverted mind. He would need to go back to therapy after this.

'Fuck.' He knew what happened every time he thought that in a dream. Always it happened, every single time. He would open his eyes involuntarily, and *she* would be there. And there she was, Sanjou-san, in all her child-molesting glory. And she was with… "SEIJURO?! What the hell are you doing here?! The rest I get but…" Aoshi quickly caught his tongue, while all occupants of the room then looked up at him funnily as if he'd just said we've all landed on Mars, please keep your hands and feet inside the spaceship.

"Of course he's here, Aoshi-sama… He's here for me," dream-Misao giggled and purred as Sano stepped aside and evaporated into steam, while Hiko took his place. At this point, Aoshi was fighting violently against his bonds, and Kamatari, who was… amusing himself with Aoshi's other parts. "Aren't you Hiko-sama?"

That tears it. The only person she could call "-sama" anything was *him*, dammit. And why the hell was Sanjou-san holding a camera?

As random as that thought was, it was true in his mind. Dream-Hiko smiled and posed in an overdramatic pornographic way, as did Misao between them. There was no way in hell Aoshi was going to follow suite.

What eventually did wake him up, however, was not his own sheer force of will. It was not the imaginary hot flesh he felt at the back of his thigh. It was not the mounting moaning or groaning, or the camera flash.

It was the sudden vision that formed above them. No one else seemed to see the cloud that floated in, or the way the ceiling disappeared. It was only Aoshi now, although he could still hear all the audio as if it were playing on "loop." Blues and whites swirled overhead, until one image manifested itself. One he hadn't seen in a long… long time.

A picture from his parent's wedding.

*-*-*-*

Aoshi jerked away, panting and shivering, bathed in his own sweat. He turned towards the window, clinging to his sheets for dear life. It was still dark out and it was yet time for him to wake, but he sure as *hell* wasn't going back to sleep after that. Perhaps never. Ever. Again. 'Note to self: brush up on knowledge of the Oedipus Rex complex.'

The last note of his dream established one thing true in his mind and heart. All of that was a lie. Every last bit of it. It was an illusion, as his parents' relationship had been. None of it would ever come to pass, or work even if it did, even… Even Misao… wanting him. For some reason, this didn't make him feel *that* much better. He sighed inwardly, reluctantly peeling his sweat-sheered body from his bed linens… and dragging his ass out of bed.

===

Author's Note:

::points:: See? Kamatari! See see! ^_^; I wanted to put him in soon anyway, but y'see I remembered to take my crack this morning, so I dreamed *that* up. ::points s'more:: Yes, this is total fluff. It's just kind of an interlude between the 'Sano's Indiscretion' arc in the story and… well, the next one. ^_^; Plus, I've been feeling silly lately. Can you believe I'm only on their fourth or fifth day? o.O;


	33. Chapter 33 - A New Day

Misao was utterly perplexed. She could rationalize Sanosuke not being awake when she was up, but Aoshi still in bed at this hour? Classes, as in, her *actual* classes, began today. It was a hard choice – whether to be excited or completely irked by the idea. 'Note to self: Switch to physics,' with that in mind, she found herself smiling and nodding to herself. Pausing a moment, recalling her first meeting with Hiko-sensei, she amended her previous thought by adding, '… and don't tell Aoshi-sama.'

Secrets *always* led to trouble. But, Misao could recall where the truth didn't do much good either. Skimming over a mini-to-do list in the back of her mind… She would totally have to call Kaoru and tell her about her day, she was sure of it. Hell, she already had a gazillion things to tell her as it was. Turning her gaze from the kitchen counter, she looked towards the beautiful view. The skies were clear, and it looked like it was going to be a great day. However, there was an odd… nagging feeling that took her when she woke up that morning.

Not that that had anything to do with waking to the less than pleasant smell of doggy droppings. She had cleaned up after the puppy, and let him run loose for a little while. Sano's penance was to watch over the pup while she was at school. Misao grinned evilly, because that was only the beginning. She wondered if Sano was aware of the amount of times puppies relieved themselves.

When she had followed Pochi into the kitchen, it was then she discovered that Aoshi could not have been awake. Nothing had moved since dinner the night before. Well, Misao reasoned, either Aoshi wasn't awake or he had gotten up and left really early.

This brought a pout to her lips, but only briefly. She'd gotten into the habit of their morning breakfasts, and their dinners. It was just their routine. And wouldn't Aoshi have left a note? Said something? Not that she was his mother or anything, but it just felt… strange.

'Maybe he's sick… maybe he went to work already?..' sighing inwardly, she glanced at the clock. It was quarter past seven, and she *knew* Sanosuke wouldn't be up yet. And he better believe he was going to walk her to school today, carry her books, and pack her lunch. Grinning widely, she thought of a perfect way to wake up her 'niichan.

She kept telling herself this was the only way, so she wouldn't be late for her eight-thirty classes. She couldn't very well let *that* happen, now could she?

*-*-*-*

"Oh that's how I like it…" Sano purred dreamily as the mystery woman ran her slender fingers along his body. He loved dreaming, it was the next best thing to real life. And as he was aware that he won't be getting any for a while under the iron fist the Misao-jurisdiction, he let the three faceless beauties lavish him with affection.

He was lying more than contented as he was pillowed by a lovely kissable, squeezable pair of breasts. Making a note to attend to those later, he watched as one girl went down on him, after bickering with the third at who would get to first. 'It is good to be the king,' he grinned to himself.

His third beauty was pouting, though, none of his fantasy women really had faces he could remember in the morning. Although, Sano chose to selectively ignore that a lot of them lately had a massive amount of hair, and usually in the form of a braid. He couldn't *see* the pout but - It was more a vibe she was giving out. Sano was, by no means, psychic, but this was his dream after all. So he would neglect her no longer! Sanosuke was valiant and gallant like that. Sturdily securing the woman by the waist, he pulled her over till she was almost lying on top of him. There were some muttered protests by the third woman, whose mouth was full as she was currently sucking on him, but hey. He was equal opportunity, so people would just have to make room for others and share like good little harem girls. Diplomacy kicks.

It was while the girl hovering over him began bathing his neck and chin in little tiny licks that he *wanted* to moan… but something about her smelled like… dog. She had dog breath.

DOG BREATH?!

*-*-*-*

Aoshi hadn't tried at all to get back to sleep. He was far too disturbed. Instead he surfed the web, in hopes of some consolation… That perhaps WebMD would be able to tell him how many Freudian complexes he currently had. There had to be something In the category of having fantasies about your ex-cross-dressing-roommate, your for-all-intensive-purposes sister, your rooster-headed half-brother, a gruff physics teacher, and the woman of your eternal torment... and all topped off by his *parents*. There had to be something.

Oedipus had *nothing* on this man right now. That guy just screwed his mother, but Aoshi was having *serious* issues.

Aoshi didn't even really pay attention to the time as it sped by. He tried everything to keep his mind off of… the dream. It had been some time since a women looked up at him with those pleading lustful eyes, begging him to sate her wants. And the fact the face was coupled with Misao's face was sending him spiraling into self-loathing.

The fact that it also had an inkling of Kamatari's feminine features seeping through made him want to go spiraling off a cliff. Not to mention the image of Hiko's face twisting with unspeakable pleasures.

Aoshi promptly dry-heaved.

Then sounds from downstairs erupted. Literally. Sanosuke sounded like a bomb had just gone off in his room, and Misao was squealing like a banshee, all of these joined with the sounds of a yapping Pochi.

It was twenty past seven in the morning, and Aoshi needed a drink. Massaging the bridge of his nose as he strode over to the door, he had every intention of laying down the law. Funnily, he didn't even have to flash his death glare at either one of them to silence them. They were silent the moment he stepped out of his bedroom.

Sanosuke and Misao somehow managed to hear Aoshi's door open through their wails and banter. It had to do something with the fact that it was that forbidden place that they weren't supposed to enter… So anything that concerned it drew immediate attention. They were shocked into silence at Aoshi's state.

"Aoshi-sama… you look…" was all Misao could muster.

"… like shit," Sano pointed out nonchalantly. The younger sibling scratched the back of his head idly, taking in the image of his brother. "Rough night?"

Aoshi still had a soft sheen from the various night sweats he'd incurred the night before, and his pajama pants were flirting dangerously below his hips. His hair was mussed and Misao could feel the gears turning within her hormones. Her jaw, which had been listlessly hanging open, snapped shut when something occurred to her. 'He couldn't have had… a guest?' If her eyes could bug out of her sockets further, they would have as a faint rouge appeared on the bridge of her nose.

From Sanosuke's point of view, he'd seen his brother in the aftermath of such events. Although it had been by accident, and provided much hilarity in future encounters, Sanosuke had stumbled upon his elder brother climbing out of one side of his bed while Aoshi's girlfriend at the time was climbing out of the other. That would've been the exact date Aoshi threatened to beat the boy within an inch of his life if he ever forgot to knock again. With that train from memory lane in mind, Sano didn't have to have photographic recall to know that Aoshi after sex didn't look like he was nursing a migraine the size of Mt. Fuji.

However, Sano *did* know what Aoshi looked like after nightmares. Cursing himself for being out of characteristically brotherly, he motioned Misao into the kitchen with a swift motion. He knew what Misao was thinking, and frankly she knew way too much about the sex lives of her elders right now to *not* be thinking what he thought she was thinking… and thinking that, he was thinking that she had to be thinking of him thinking that – 'It is way too fucking early for this shit.'

"Fix some grub, while I get ready to walk ya to school, brat," he said plainly, knocking Misao out of her reverie. Smacking his lips together, swirling the bacterial residue around his mouth. He held his hand in front of his face, and checked his breath – bad idea. Sano winced, but exchanged a look with his brother out of the corner of his eye. Misao was busying herself doing what she was told – for once, though her motives were to focus on anything but Aoshi's physique – and so Sano went off to do what he said he was going to do.

Aoshi almost smirked, partially annoyed by the fact that some part of him had to admit that Sano *knew* him as a real brother would, and shook his head a bit, retiring back to his quarters, not noticing the puppy that slipped in with him. Unknowingly accompanied by a cuddly fur ball, Aoshi went about getting ready for work as if it were just any other day.

The routine he had developed over many years, all of a sudden seemed foreign and… empty. Aoshi grunted as he was bombarded by streams of cold water, that steadily grew warmer and then scalding.

Today was just another birthday of real life.

*-*-*-*

One of Aoshi's hands had his fingertips picking at the corner of the file folder in front of him, as the other was twirling a pencil. The third one for the day, in fact. The man known as Hiko Seijurou turned out to have some kind of a wrap sheet, it appeared. However, the fact that this same school admitted drag queens to teach, Aoshi couldn't say he was that surprised. Although, Aoshi did discover exactly how he knew this man's name.

He hadn't arrived to the office until just a little before nine. Oftentimes, he was the first one there… Then again, oftentimes, he hadn't had wet dreams about seemingly random assortments of people. His well kept stubs for fingernails were digging into the innocent number two pencil. But his expression never changed, contrary to his disordered, disturbed, and currently delicate state of mind.

Sitting down in his plush office chair, storing whatever his secretaries were bantering on about into the back of his head for later use, he was consumed in his current investigation. The women made their leave, leaving a hefty sum of paperwork on his desk. Aoshi plucked a picture from the file he had been looking at, a police report about a bar brawl, featuring none other than the mystical Hiko Seijurou, or the kendou artist formerly known as Kakunoshin Niitsu.

Honestly. He didn't know exactly what bothered him more, the fact that Hiko had given off the aura of an adversary, or the fact that he had touched Misao. He'd touched Misao more than *Aoshi* had ever touched Misao at that point. Misao had hugged *him*, Misao had pounced on *him*. Though, perhaps Aoshi was getting too technical. But regardless! This was injustice that had to be dealt with, immediately. The man invaded his dreams for pete's sake, not to mention Misao's personal space. There had to be some rule against teachers touching their students in such a casual manner. There had to be. Those hands had lingered on her shoulders for far too long.

Without realizing it, Aoshi had snapped another pencil in half. He was bombarded with the casual advances that… *woman* made towards him. Brushing her hand into his hair when he divulged his father's drinking problem to her, giving to her everything she greedily wished to take. She wanted his surrender, his submission, and whatever was left of his innocence. That's how it started. It started on the border of sin. Just the feather light touch, the kiss to the forehead, the slender fingers running along his shoulder blades… Then it became a spiraling affair that ruined her career, and the life of her family. There was a pang for the girl. 'Tsubame-chan,' he recalled sadly, almost frowning outwardly. Oddly, he had much in common with the girl. Their mothers were sluts.

Shaking his head, he tried – honestly tried – to not steer that bitter angry route. He would never admit to liking what his mother did, nor did he acknowledge any ties that weren't scientifically based… However, the woman was also Sanosuke's mother. So Aoshi made the difficult attempt to try and respect her as that, if nothing else. Not because he was becoming more attached to the jerk, or anything. 'course not.

Time? Almost half past ten. And Aoshi still needed that drink. He'd been going through this information, shifting through a good dozen of civil complaints, disturbance of the peace, driving under the influence, lewd behavior, indecent exposure… No wonder he was booted off the Tokyo University team. Aoshi recalled coming across the name before, the man had been somewhat of a running annual champion. As Aoshi would've guessed, and read on the paper in front of him, "Hiko-sensei" brought more blight than fame to the university's reputation. Needless to say, they cut him loose a year earlier than his degree required. Though, somehow, the man had weaseled his way to still having all the credits towards being an educator of young minds.

It's a sick sad world, really. Apparently, the man was working on his dissertation. Something about the physical manifestation of the human fighting spirit whilst in battle. Even published a book and a couple essays… Most well known being his essay entitled "101 Ways for People to Worship You." A self-help guide to egotism, not to mention some of the obvious sexual annotations that Okon seemed *necessary* to point out in the margins of the copied text.

Fantastic. No wonder they'd been able to collect so much information in such little time. They'd *wanted* to do it. His secretaries had the hots for a man he wanted to murder. Okay, "murder" is a strong word… Aoshi would settle for amputating a few choice appendages. And here he'd been honestly considering giving them a raise. Now, he was inching closer to switching to Maxwell House. 'Hah. See how they like *that*…' No more chai lattes, ladies.

Before Aoshi could allow himself jumping off of *that* cliff again, he tried to focus on the task at hand. He was Misao's guardian. It was his job, his duty. He had every right to intervene in her schooling, particularly *who* schooled her. That was enough rational logical for him to continue with his investigation into Hiko Seijurou. Aoshi would focus on this project, and then move to the next. This was work. Work will set him free, if he just buried himself deep enough into it.

And then he could settle this Honjou Kamatari matter, which would be the file sitting next in line for his perusal, along with the work that backed up in his absence the past two days.

This was work. This was good. This was normal.

This made him forget the empty loneliness that he had always neglected to address the real issues.

*-*-*-*

Around noon, a phone call from Sanosuke had Aoshi running home in the blink of an eye. His secretaries called after him in vain, inquiring the cause of emergency. When Aoshi arrived at his building, he'd recomposed himself, mostly before he walked in to be met by the smirking visage of his younger half brother. He was really not liking that look on his face, and was extremely tempted to deck him for it – however, due to his actions as a brother this morning, he would excuse this single indiscretion. Or he thought he would.

"Told you this was a mistake, I told you that this was a bad idea, I told you –" Sano was talking cryptically. This was worse. It meant that he either had a long time to prepare, or that there was a lot of fuel for the fire. Or at least, the little eight watt light bulb that Sano called a brain. Aoshi watched as Sano pointed a finger to his room.

'THAT'S the emergency?' Aoshi thought incredulously. Now Sano was skidding on thin ice. The boy had called the office on his cell phone, and said nothing but, "Aoshi. We need you at home, right away." He'd thought something had happened… seriously happened. Now it was looking like something to do with the plumbing or something. What was Sanosuke doing in or about his room *again* anyway? Had he not learned his lesson?

Then again. Considering the past couple of days, *anything* could've happened. He not-so-gently grabbed Sanosuke by the arm, escorting him up to the room in question. He had to keep him at arms' length so he could judge the magnitude of the pain he was going to inflict in accordance to the amount of stupidity and wasted time would be invested into this venture.

However, Aoshi was distracted instantaneously upon entering his bedroom. His hand dropped off of Sano's arm. He couldn't see as his brother leaned against the door frame, with his arms crossed, smiling all smug. "I told you… I warned you… I was telling you for your own sake… Did you listen to me? Nooooo…"

"That's enough," Aoshi said glaring over at his brother. Sanosuke shrugged, doing a terrible job of holding back a chuckle. Sanosuke excused himself from the room formerly known as Aoshi's, but just before closing the door behind himself he called over his shoulder:

"NOW do you see why I never wanted a dog?" Aoshi struck out towards his brother, but hit nothing but door. The painted made a loud protesting crack against his fist. Damn that boy'd gotten quick. Looking over the disarray of his former sanctuary, and there was Pochi… sitting in a puddle of his own excrement in the middle of his bed, wagging his tail as if he'd just brought in the morning paper. Sano only added to his troubles with echoing laughter filling the whole apartment.

The dog had to go. If for no other reason than… Misao would never forgive him if he outright killed it. The puppy's tail stopped wagging, as it suddenly grew well aware of the faint feral gleam in the man's eyes. It was one of those funny moments where a person could appreciate the brain capacity of an animal, because they had a look about them where they obviously have become aware of having done wrong, and had their proverbial fingers crossed that they'd get away with it.

Pochi would, for sure. Aoshi would be more than pleased to let him use his Ralph Lauren bedding as toilet paper, or his Gucci ties as dental floss. He would allow any dog, or flea beckoning animal to do so.

All animals carrying a charge card, insurance, and had a damn good lawyer, anyway. He gave the pup some credit, after all, for one so small, he could cause a hell of a lot of damage. This vaguely reminded him of a younger brother…

Time? Twenty past noon. And yes, Aoshi still needed a drink.

===

Author's Note:

So hey, how's it going. ^_^; Just thought I'd say hi, and hope ya liked the new chapters. Yup. Well, yeah. That's all. ^_^; ::wavewave:: These chapters I might do some more work on, I'll let ya know.


	34. Chapter 34 - Pawns in Motion

It wasn't like Sano'd never walked her to school before. Back in high school, he made the religious attempt. You know, unless he had to run ahead and beat some guy up beforehand, but oftentimes, he could fit Misao into his schedule. However, this was different. This was supposed to be some sort of penance of some kind, so he decided to behave himself. You know, cut back on the "weasals" and keep his hands to himself.

'...' Pause. '... heh,' Sano scritched the tip of his nose with a smirk, hoping he wasn't blushing. After this 'punishment,' he would have to puppysit. He growned inwardly. 'Damn fucking mutt… bastard furball… flea-bitten piece of shit…'  
  
Misao was oblivious to the goings on next to her of the would-be man who was escorting her to classes that day. Instead, she was mentally preparing herself for the day ahead. 'Watch your mouth. Watch your fists. Try not to kill anybody...' Having Honjou Kamatari's class today made the latter *really* difficult.

  
"So what's your schedule lookin' like anyway?" being ever so casual, there was no bro like Sano. He was talking to Misao, but he couldn't help the occasional leer at some miss who made it into his peripheral vision. 'Down boy. Not around the weasel.' He was already in hell and high water with her in that playing field. This whole hormones, men-women, sex thing was spiralling out of control. Next thing you know, he'll be trying to get Misao into bed - at the very last second, Sano stumbled in his path to prevent from walking into a stop sign.  
  
"... uhm. It's okay," Misao blatantly lied. If Sanosuke found out she was taking ballet, there was no way in hell she was going to live it down. It was just better for certain things to be left unsaid. Hopefully she'll be able to get her way out of it... as soon as she figured out where she had to go to get her courses changed.  
  
"... that bad huh?" He tried not to smirk. He tried to sympathize really. But with the amount of pleats that were appearing before his eyes as they neared the school, he couldn't help but revert to his primal instincts. "Whatcha takin'?"  
  
Misao thought how to tactfully avoid answering directly, "... you know. This, that, the usual." She winced when she saw Sano's expression. She'd somehow transmorphed into saran wrap, 'cause he was seein' right through her.  
  
"... oh reeeeaally," Sano put a lilt in his voice, and a spring into his step. "This. That. And the usual," he repeated, and Misao nodded with a sheepish look on her face. Oh no, she wasn't going to smile this one off. "Well, call me crazy... or maybe I've just not been in school for a while - but exactly what would the 'this' and 'that' be?" He promptly got a few paces ahead of the girl, and cut her off staring down at her. It reminded her of the time when she saw *the video* in biology, and tried to sugarcoat it. One thing Misao had learned at a young age was that one of the biggest things that annoyed her about Sano was that she could never get away with keeping things from him. At least, not for very long.

  
"... you know..." Misao trailed reluctantly, trying to find a way to pass Sano without bumping into innocent pedestrians or street fixtures. The lampposts were getting way too familiar with her forehead lately. "... there's a science in there... some history... that 'this' and 'that.'" See? That wasn't LYING persay! - It was just a half-truth. Sano couldn't *handle* the truth.

At least, not maturely.

Apparently, Misao must've done something in a past life to please the gods because before Sano could answer anymore, there was a battle cry and the sounds of loud running in their general direction. Immediately taking a defensive stance, Misao braced herself for impact – though, soon realized that she had not been the target.

"YOU! I TOLD YOU TO STAY AWAY FROM MY GIRLFRIEND!" Misao shook her head slowly. Collecting herself, she held her forehead in her palm. They had been in this town for what? Three? Four days? And Sano had already gotten a challenge. She blinked at the concrete, 'It couldn't have been… *that* woman????' Now, Sano could take care of himself. But, for some reason, Misao was intrigued. She'd never *seen* the woman. Maybe she could get just a glimpse or something – to see what she was up against…

"… eh?!" Falling back onto the wall in front of St. Catharine's, the braided girl watched as some pint-sized school boy chewed at Sanosuke's head. "Sano, what the hell did you do?!"

"Lay off it weasel girl!" the runt barked, as he was plucked off his perch by a not so pleased Sano. As the boy found his footing on the floor, he looked Misao over. The action earning him a swift knuckle sandwich to his cranium.

"Hey, that's my weasel your checkin' out." A pause. Misao looked at Sano. Sano looked at Misao. Of course, by the rules of conduct that is teenage social etiquette – both blushed, and looked at away. A quiet voice came up behind Misao, nearly scaring her back to normal.

"… ne, Makimachi-san?" It was that girl she'd met the other day with Aoshi. She smiled at Yahiko, who blushed along with the taller boy. Apparently, there was something in the sky that was drawing both their interests. When Misao just blinked at her, "… anno, I remembered your name from cooking class..."

"… hah, she needs it," Sano whispering, elbowing Yahiko in the ribs, and both chuckled off to the side. He made note to goad her about it later. Misao could only cast a brief glare, as she didn't want to be rude to the girl… whose name she couldn't remember to save her life.

"Uh, yeah… right!" She looked for a way to get around the fact that she didn't know how to address the girl, "You can call me by my first name –"

"Weasel," both boys – well, one boy, and one boy in a man's body – chimed. Misao growled at the two, she was sure if she said that then the girl would have said it was alright to call her by her first name… And in turn, *tell* her first name, therefore, Misao wouldn't have to reveal having forgotten it. She had the excuse of being the new girl in town, but she also had pride. But thanks to these buffoons, her plan was ruined. Not to mention, they also made her look bad in front of her one possible friend in this stinking hell hole of a plushy prison…

Both males blinked as the girl in front of them began to steam at the ears. Yahiko pssted Sano, tugging at his sleeve. Both had their eyes transfixed on the girl who was approaching in slow, hard falling, stomps. The smaller boy whispered shakily, "… she's pretty violent for a girl."

"… why'd ya think she's switchin' here in her last year?" Sano hushed back. Luckily, or unluckily as the case may be, Misao was beyond listening to their asides. She was cracking her knuckles as the two slowly began to sidestep away.

"… ne, Maki–Misao-san? We should be heading inside soon…" Saved by the waitress girlfriend. The millisecond Misao turned her head, the boys made their retreat.

*-*-*-*

'So much for a good first day,' Misao grumbled silently as she sulked at her lunch table. She had gotten half way through the day, and was sitting across from her new friend, Tsubame, and some… other girls who all looked the same and had the same high pitched voice and all talked about the same stuff. She'd have to put up with a whole year of this. What she couldn't get was how Tsubame could stand these… *people*. If these vacant would-be Barbie dolls could carry a conversation that didn't not have the word 'like' 'hot' or 'kawaii', *maybe* Misao would tune in. Or there was the dreadful combination: 'he was, like, so hot, but like, so kawaii, all at, like, the same time, like oh my *gawd*…' She couldn't refrain from shuddering at least once.

It was half past noon, and Misao now knew what drove teenagers to binge drink. If only these Catholic Girl Skipper dolls were the worst part, but no… It was when she had tried to change her schedule that things went wrong.

First thing into the building, Tsubame – whose name she finally found out by asking for her class schedule, helped her find her locker. Misao asked where she could get her own changed, and then Tsubame showed her to the school offices, which was next door to the teacher's lounge. And who else would be there?

None other than Honjou Kamatari. Or 'Honjou-sensei.' Misao grimaced at the thought of having to show this skank respect. '… that slut was all over Aoshi-sama, I swear if she touches him again I'll… I'll…' Honestly, she had no idea what she would do since she didn't really know why she was getting so territorial in the first place. But it didn't matter *why* - right? It just mattered that she wanted this woman's head on a platter, and tagging a "-sensei" to her name didn't put her any lower on Misao's shit list.

Was that the worst of it? No, of course not. Because this was Misao's personal hell. Not *only* had Honjou-sensei wormed her slimely digits onto Aoshi-sama… but now they were on Hiko-sensei. The door to the teacher's lounge was open, and Misao and Tsubame got the perfect view of Honjou-sensei's hand making it's way into Hiko-sensei's blazer. 'Now that *HAS* to be against the rules…!' As Misao began to roll up her sleeve to march right in there, Tsubame tugged her towards the office, whispering.

"Misao-san, please remember it's the *first* day…" She hadn't known the girl long, but Misao hated it when she was right. So, she allowed Tsubame to pull her into the direction of the office.

And now it was half past noon. Her schedule didn't leave much room for change. Apparently, her dear old grandfather had locked specific courses that she *had* to take, and some that were requirements to graduate. She was able to switch to physics, which was about the only good thing all morning. However, that had its own backlash. It caused Honjou-sensei's class to be the first class of the day. Misao could recall sitting in front of one of the school staff members and glancing up at one of the many crucifixes tacked up on the back wall and thinking, 'Please kill me.'

*-*-*-*

It was now 2:15PM, and the phone rang. Aoshi was overseeing as three cleaning ladies were sterilizing his quarters back to perfection. The one vacuum that had been on was turned off, and Aoshi nodded to the woman in appreciation as he picked up the phone. His eyes narrowed at the faint teeth marks he could feel under his calloused fingers. Scowling over at the dog that had been leashed outside on the balcony, he answered.

"Shinomori residence, Shinomori Aoshi speaking." He briefly wondered if he always sounded like a tape recording, or if the Pine Sol was going to his head.

"Aoshichi!!"

SLAM!

All actions in the room ceased as Aoshi slammed the receiver down. Not him. Anything but him. What the hell was he calling for? How'd he get this number?

2:16PM. And the phone rang again. The cleaning ladies glanced between each other, watching as Aoshi's hand twitched over the receiver. The only other thing giving away the kryptonite qualities of the phone right then was the flaring of Aoshi's nostrils – though that could've been a side effect of the Pine Sol. Drawing in a silent breath, Aoshi picked up the phone and held it to his ear.

"… Aoshichi? Why'd you hang up on me!" the voice squealed. It was blatantly feminine, but nobody. And that meant *nobody* - called him that. Except for, "It's me! Kama-chan! How are yooou?" The lithe in the man's voice made Aoshi want to puke.

Stoically proceeding, calculating each syllable, "Honjou." Okay, so he needed more time to prepare.

"You're being so coooold, Aoshichi. You haven't changed at all!" Aoshi could *hear* the pout. He was shamefully reminded that he briefly found this man attractive in that … attire.

"Neither you," Aoshi did not continue. He obviously wanted to know what the hell this was about, and he knew Kamatari knew that. The man was afraid to ask. He knew anything he said this man would turn against him, and probably lace it with sexual innuendo. Frankly, this was just not something he wanted to hear right now. For all he knew, it might subconsciously manifest itself in another dream – hell just thinking it might, could do it… '… damn it all.'

"… well, down to business." 'Finally.' "This is about your current ward. Am I right in assuming that one Miss Makimachi is in your custody?" Kamatari's voice was eerily professional. Aoshi was not fooled for a second. When he didn't answer, the other man continued, "I thought I should be the one to inform you that she will be late coming home due to the fact she will be detained after school today."

There was a drawn out silence. Another silent question passed between them. The cleaning ladies, as sweet as they were, were also nosy, and weren't getting much to go on from Aoshi's end. They'd gone back to work, trying to be as quiet as possible, mostly so they could eavesdrop. It wasn't everyday an eligible rich bachelor called in not one – not two – but three cleaning ladies. Especially when one's employer was this particular rich eligible meticulous anal retentive man.

"Her conduct was that unbecoming a lady of our highly awarded institution," Aoshi tried not to sneer, for the proof of otherwise was on the other end of the line, "And so I regrettably had to enforce punishment. Of course you understand…" And the kicker, "Shinomori-san." Another pause.

"You know… Aoshichi…" It had been too good to be true, Aoshi silently growled, "If you would like for me to come over… You know, for some private, more… intimate lessons… I'm sure I could whip some shape into –"

"I appreciate that you notified me of Misao-chan's impending tardiness this afternoon. Goodbye," his offered gratitude that was completely thankless, and was punctuated by Aoshi hanging up the phone. What the hell could she have done on the first day? And the *nerve* of that man... soliciting him on the phone! If his investigation hadn't been cut short, Aoshi would've probably easily found enough to shut down that school and yank Misao out of there before gravity could enforce its pull on that braid of hers.

His mind wandered back to his investigation as it came to mind. And although the Honjou route had yet to be explored, if for no other reason than reluctance to bring back old memories… At least he'd had a minor glimmer of satisfaction in the Hiko case.

*-*-*-*

Earlier that morning, before the tragic demise of Ralph Lauren, Aoshi was turning the gears on the work day to come. The way he was feeling hadn't change much in that passage of time, as both times he had recalled wishing her were an alcoholic. It was a little hard to focus at first… especially considering the lack of sleep the night before. 'Correction. Lack of restful sleep.' Not to mention his various other mental distractions. However, he was able to reclaim some of his former self and looked as stone-faced as ever as he strode through towards his office. His lovely assistants, Omasu and Okon, quickly rode up to his flanks. Each had armfuls of paperwork, 'Yippee.'

"I have the information you requested on a Mister… Kakunoshin Niitsu? Alias, Hiko Seijurou…" Aoshi stopped in his tracks. With those magical words, Aoshi was back on track, in effect, ready for action, good to go. Okon promptly flipped open one of the file folders in her arms and set it in his hands. He held it carefully, as though it was the lost gospels, but he revealed none of his gratitude outwardly. It seemed like everything was going to fall into place, go according to plan… then again, Aoshi's no psychic and had no way of predicting the magnitude of torture he'd have to incur once he stepped back into his apartment.

There was a picture, and a general dossier that Aoshi could tell Okon had written up. He would have to remember to give her a raise. As he was skimming the dossier, succeeding in blocking any right of passage with a secretary at either side of him, a metal mail cart pressed into his thighs in front of him. The icy gaze rose slowly from his current priority to look into the clear blue eyes of a young man standing behind the cart, obviously the new mail boy. Said boy was currently bowing his head with his palms pressed together letting out a stream of apologies.

"Gomen gomen gomen gomen Shinomori-san! Gomen gomen!" Aoshi barely had a chance to blink before he'd heard a dozen apologies. Definitely gotta cancel Starbucks'.

"Ne, it's alright..." Omasu soothed, bordering on cooing. She suspected if he continued apologizing, the poor boy would get on their boss's nerves worse than if he hadn't said sorry at all. Aoshi had better things to do, and so took no note of said boy Omasu had granted him and walked to pass him until he saw the boy blinking at the picture on the file in his hands. The boy jumped back, walled against one of the nearby cubicles, and was sputtering apologies again. On most other days, Aoshi didn't mind being intimidating, however, this boy obviously had information.

"Do you know this man," He wasn't much for questioning either. The boy stopped his nodding, both to acknowledge he was being spoken to and the fact that he was afraid he might incur some personal irreparable damage. Although, the boy's answer was obviously positive, because he nodded again, wincing. Perhaps he had incurred some internal damage from shaking his brain so much. But, Aoshi noted, he didn't stop smiling for a single beat. Starbucks'.

"Ne, Shinomori-san, he's new here," Omasu chimed. Apparently, she already had some affection for the boy. Aoshi barely glanced between the two. 'Of course,' he mentally sneered, 'because he's _kawaaaaaaiii.' He internally gagged, and crossed his fingers hoping that new introductions wouldn't lead to new dreams. 'Great. First I'm fantasizing about people related to me, then people older than me, male and female alike… and now I'm after young mail boys.' Aoshi wondered if those doctors up on their high chairs had a medication for such a predicament. When did his life become a plot for a porn movie? His mind wandered, which it hardly ever did, and he found that this was a dangerous state of mind to brood. His eyes narrowed, dangerously, as a sign of his focus on the now *extremely* nervous young man._

"He's part of the co-op program," Okon assisted, her arms hugging the files in her arms to her chest. She didn't know what was going through her employer's mind right then, but it would be such a shame if this boy had his face rearranged because Shinomori-san got up on the wrong side of the bed.  She glanced at Omasu, who was visualizing similar acts of violence… They both had worked there long enough to know when Aoshi did not want to play games – not that he did much at all, but hey – working here meant free Starbucks'. 

Aoshi seemed to be visually inspecting the boy with a fine toothed comb. The boy offered a bow and a wave with a trembling hand. Short dark hair, blue eyes – and he looked awfully young to be here, but… None of these observations were answering his question, and he curled his hand over the handle of the mail cart, leaning dangerously towards the boy.

"Do you. Or do you not. Know this man," Aoshi held the file up in front of the boy's face. The boy glanced at the menacing manner Aoshi's knuckles had turned white over the handle of his innocent mail cart, and decided against nodding for he was starting to get a headache. When Aoshi had his mind set on something, nothing (and no one, regardless of how '_kawaaaaiiiii') escaped his wrath._

"Hai, Shinomori-san!" The boy apparently regained some confidence, because he was not able to stand without assistance from the wall. Aoshi almost expected the boy to salute with the manner he made that proclamation. Holding back a sigh, the man raised a single eyebrow prompting the boy to continue. "… h-hai," the boy acknowledged this and went on with his story, "Well I saw him at a bar a while back when I was with some friends of mine…"

The boy watched as his employer straightened up and pointed to the picture, "Are you sure it was this man?"

"Hai hai!" The boy's eyes disappeared, as he shone with pride and confidence. Pausing a moment, to watch for a sign to continue from his employer (who basically held a whole *chunk* of his future at the tip of his fingers)… "I couldn't forget that man, sir! He caused this huge brawl! Took on at least a dozen men on his own – unarmed no less! Not to mention he had all the waitresses fawning over him… What none of my friends wouldn't give to have been him with every lady in the house crawling over him… He must be some kind of stud, I mean he was awesome, and his strength was almost inhuman! – he was…"

Okon quickly cut in with a sharp cough, appearing at the boy's side to cut in with a soft whisper under her breath, "… he teaches at his little sister's school."

"… he's an awful awful man, who should learn some manners and etiquette," the boy finished nervously, with an audible "gulp." Aoshi seemed to have no reaction to the information that was just fed to him, particularly the tail-end. The young ones always felt the need to kiss ass. The man flipped through a couple pages quickly skimming, and then nodded, as if acknowledging the boy's story as true. Without looking at him, Aoshi spoke again.

"Name."

"Hai hai! Seta Soujirou, sir!" This time, the boy *did* salute. Aoshi raised an eyebrow slightly, an odd thought coming to mind. This boy's uber-genki ways reminded him of… someone…

"If you see or hear anything else about this man…" Aoshi trailed, as he turned to walk away, getting back to business.

"I'll come straight to you, yes sir! You can count on me sir!" As the words escaped his lips, however, Aoshi was already striding away. He got all he could get from the boy for now, but he took note that he may be of some use in the future perhaps. 

*-*-*-*

Soujirou let out a breath that he didn't know he was holding and felt a soft hand rest on his shoulder. It was a comforting gesture. After all, a run in with the boss on your first day at work was never a good omen. The hand disappeared and waved, where he offered a gracious smile in return, and the two secretaries went after their employer who was heading to his office. None of the trio watched as the boy deflated onto his cart momentarily, before returning to his smiling shining visage and went back to work.

He was young, strong… He'd survive. Even if Shinomori-san breathed down his neck, Soujirou was committed to success. Somewhat of a genius, he'd made his way into the co-op program two years before he should've been admitted. He should've been in his last year of high school, but here he was in a second year program at a prestigious research firm.

'This is it Soujirou. You can do this.' It was just like back in high school when the larger boys thought that they could take him down just because he was smaller. No way, no how. Shinomori Aoshi was just a big bully like those guys back in school (one name coming to mind immediately), and Soujirou would show him his best. Digging his heels into the floor with new resolve, he took hold of his cart and held his chin up high with a bright stunning smile.

'Back to work!' He cheered silently as he continued to pass out various envelopes and packages.

Kids today. They just bounce right back, don't they?


	35. Chapter 35 - De-TEN-tion!

Author's Note:

Uh. This is another Kamatari episode, and there's uh. Implied shounen ai. Just thought I'd post a warning. Heh. No triple-x stuff, since there's too much alcohol involved to get into all that. XD Read and see.

===

Aoshi had reasons. Reasons for not wanting to get 'in touch with his inner self.' He had reasons not to want to open up, delve into the past, and stitch every little wound. The slight piece of paper that was in his hand was one of the reasons he did not want to go there.

'Furniture movers… daily food delivery… dog food… dog toys… cleaning ladies…' Aoshi ticked them off one by one in the back of his head. No, the Shinomori family had no financial problems, and these were simply spit in the bucket. But for crying out loud, it hadn't been a week yet.

His life? Changed. His routine? Abolished. His sanctuary? Shit on. Aoshi wanted a drink. Aoshi *needed* a drink. However, this was another one of those things in his past that he rather not dive back into. But, he was coming dangerously close to going there again.

*-*-*-*

Sanosuke was currently staring down a puppy, who was fiercely staring back at him. This had gone on for some good ten minutes, before Sano's neck started to cramp. 'Damn mutt.'

He was now official caretaker of the puppy during the school day. Since he was the only one who had the next week free before his classes started, he was dubbed official puppy sitter. And he was the *only* one who didn't want the puppy there in the first place!

Sano grinned, 'Well, not the *only* one.' Aoshi's expression when he discovered his room had been damn near priceless. He should've remembered to bring a camera. It was classic. Then again, Sano was well-humored when it came to his elder brother. So the guy was a jerk, anal retentive, obsessive compulsive, and colder than Antarctica when it's turned away from the sun… But regardless, that didn't make him any less of a brother.

'He needs to get laid,' Sano concluded, as he crossed his arms, and let the puppy yip in triumph. Rolling his eyes, he tried to recall the last girlfriend Aoshi had. Sucking in air through his teeth, Sano grimaced. The woman was fairly attractive, but that's about it. Sano fucked dumb blondes on occasion, but he couldn't imagine having a 'serious' relationship with one. Frankly, he usually got bored with 'em after one go. Okay, maybe three.

Shaking his head at that idle conclusion, Sano absentmindedly petted the dog. When he realized what he was doing he jerked back and both the dog and himself had surprised looks on their faces. Then both turned their backs one another and pretended it didn't happen.

*-*-*-*

Misao was listless on her bed, after another session of detention with Honjou-sensei. Why did she *always* have to be the moderator? Didn't she have better things to do after class?

Flashes of Honjou-sensei and her less than subtle caresses and advances to Hiko-sensei made Misao's stomach turn. Tsubame told her that there was nothing going on, that Hiko-sensei was infamous for not being tied down by any woman.

That of course led to a stream of S&M fantasies.

*-*-*-*

It was a time long ago, back in college. And we all know that 'back in college' oftentimes translates into, 'the times you never mention to your kids.' Aoshi had a lot of those times. It was especially torrid in first year, when he was paired up with Honjou Kamatari as dorm mates. He couldn't help but shudder any time the memories flooded him.

It hadn't been bad enough that they'd been roommates back in boarding school. Oh no, there just seemed to be no god on Aoshi's side in this lifetime. Fate would have it that he be paired again with the boy, an experience which was less than pleasant.

What had gone wrong you wonder? Well, Kamatari didn't always cross-dress. Heck, he didn't even know he was gay, or so Aoshi gathered. Apparently, Kamatari couldn't come out of a closet he was never in. He was a free spirit. He loved who he wanted to love, and that's all that mattered. Male or female. He was totally free with all of his emotions, and even outward gestures. And it annoyed Aoshi to the core.

It wasn't that he was a bad guy… wholly. It was just he was so… so…

'Perverted. Lecherous,' were the first words that popped into Aoshi's mind. It was like Kamatari's sexual peak lasted a good decade from the way he'd acted at the school. Aoshi couldn't call them friends, granted there were times where he didn't want the boy dead, but why did he have to show up *now*? And why in Misao's school?! As her *teacher*?! And why –

There weren't any answers. Or at least the gods were offering any. Aoshi once thought everything happened for a purpose.

Even the tryst with Sanjou had its own purpose. When that all went down, Aoshi was in a bad place. No, his heart hadn't been broken, but that was when the whispers started. Every wall spoke of the deeds that were hidden behind them, and every look was groping him like fresh meat. The sexualized objectification that that woman had placed over him was now taking toll.

Aoshi was sixteen, almost seventeen when it all went down. His father was none too pleased. But did he come to see his son? Yell at him in person? No. He sent a fax. "Keep quiet. You won't have to appear in court. Tell them nothing." 'Them' were the reporters, the journalists, the news casters, the ones who swarmed around the gates of the school constantly to get a peek or a hint of the boys that were … exploited. They begged for interviews from the boys, and many sold their soul and pride for their fifteen minutes in the spotlight. He almost wanted to thank his father for making sure his name was unattached. But that was all he was to his father. A name.

Aoshi had his father's name, and so could not be marred or stained, by any means.

It was one night, stormy and dark as most stories like this begin, and Aoshi couldn't sleep. Again. He would stare at the ceiling hoping that when his eyes tired, they'd fall shut, and he'll fall into slumber. That day he was in class, when a photographer had snuck in and started snapping photos in his face. And here he thought getting a desk by the door was a good idea.

It took three guys, and the teacher to hold him back from killing the man.

He had lost control. Now, when he really needed counseling, there was no one there. All the counselors were scared stiff. Their sessions all happening with the doors open, so that anyone could look in… or listen in, as the case may be. They didn't want to be the next scandal on the cover of a tabloid.

The young man sighed resignedly, draping an arm over his eyes. Luckily, he'd done it in time before light streamed in the room. Keeping his eyes closed, he removed his arms, and blinked a few times. His expression didn't change, but there was a nearly inaudible growl coming from the back of his throat. 'Kamatari.'

Kamatari had this annoying habit of sneaking out to the local pubs and getting people to buy him drinks. Sometimes, he hung outside liquor stores for the same thing. Aoshi never understood why the boy wanted to drown his liver so early in life, but it was none of his business. Frankly, he didn't care much, as long as he stayed out of the way.

Here in lies the problem.

"Aoshichi…" the boy almost slurred, gracelessly shutting the door behind him. The boy burst into giggles dropping onto the foot of Aoshi's bed, which was closest to the door. He reeked of cheap cigars, musk, and alcohol. Aoshi tried not to lurch. Sitting up on his elbows wearily, he kicked at the boy at the foot of his bed. "Wha-huh? Dun want any comp'ny?" Kamatari pouted. Aoshi only tilted his head towards the other bed, signifying to get the hell off of his. "Ne… but this one's closer… and it's so warm…"

As the boy crawled up, bringing his legs onto the bed and curled up into a ball at the bottom, cuddling what looked like a brown paper bag in his arms. If he got caught with liquor in the dorm, they might both be kicked out. But at the moment, Aoshi just wanted to kick the boy out of his bed. It was bad enough that he was having insomnia; he didn't need to be further molested by a girly drunk sex hound.

But the boy didn't move, save for a little tremble or two. He just lay on his side, curled around the paper bag like a teddy bear. Aoshi nearly jumped when the boy spoke, for the silence had stretched on for quite some bit. "Y'know. I like to drink."

'No shit,' Aoshi mentally swiped his hand over his face. He lay back and returned to watching the ceiling in the dark, attempting to ignore the boy curled up by his feet.

"When I drink I don't gotta think about stuff." Aoshi rolled his eyes. 'That's because you're body has better things to worry about. Like the fact that your liver's dying.' He could only see the outline of the boy with the moonlight streaming in from the window. Kamatari was smaller than Aoshi, just lithe and effeminate. It was a wonder how he survived in this alpha male environment. Aoshi supposed, theoretically, such a predicament could drive someone to drink.

"You drink, 'yoshi?" Aoshi brought fingers to pinch at the bridge of his nose. 'Control.' Fate was testing him.

"No." It was the truth. He hated alcohol. He hated how it turned good fathers into monsters, and how it turned a household into the seventh circle of hell.

"Ya'sure are a stronger man than me…" Kamatari's voice trailed. Aoshi felt his covers shift, as Kamatari balled it into his fist. "… I drink 'cause I'm weak, y'know." He said rather matter-of-factly. Aoshi saw the outline nod to himself out of the corner of his eye. He was prompted to sit back up on his elbows. As he was up, he might as well pretend to pay attention. Maybe then the boy'll go to sleep.

"… so I dun'hafta think about things." There was a soft hiccup. Was Kamatari crying? The boy's voice caught as he continued. "I-I don't even know why I'm talkin'ta you, you don't care… nobody does…" His voice slurred out to a soft murmur, almost indecipherable to Aoshi.

Although, he heard the important part: the part he could relate to. From where Aoshi was sitting right now, he had nobody. His mother had her family. His father had his business. He had no friends. And no longer had a poor excuse of a lover.

"But you know what 'yoshi?" Aoshi let his head loll to rest on his shoulder as if silently responding 'what.' "I figured somethin' out with this stuff…" Kamatari's voice was raspy as he sloshed the bottle around over head, the paper bag slipping off and finding a new home on the floor.

"What's that?" Aoshi was honestly curious, if not downright condescending. He watched the boy wince, as his fingers slipped and the bottle was dropped on the bed rolling into Aoshi's leg. Aoshi jumped a bit, but then realized the bottle was half empty and sealed tightly.

"That no'mattah' how much ya'try ta'forgot… the truth'll come and bite'ya on the ass the next mornin'," Kamatari broke out into humorless chuckles, pulling his knees into his chest. "When ya gotta look tha'boy in the face and think it's wrong, that you're wrong… that you just weren't born right…"

What the hell was he talking about now? Aoshi blinked, glad for the darkness as he might've actually been showing an expression. "Ya'gotta watch him skulk aroun'in shadows drownin' in his own hell right in front of ya!" His arm shot out suddenly, and as if there were an invisible handhold in the air, Kamatari dragged himself up to sit up. His back was to Aoshi, and he continued ranting, "Dead to the world! But when ya'drink 'yoshi… Hah! When ya drink!" Kamatari's hand swung slowly in the air scolding no one in particular.

"It's when ya'drink! Ya'discover that'funky thing called hope… even if it's all fuzzy and… hazy…" The boy was swaying back and forth almost dangerously threatening to fall off the end of the bed onto his face. Aoshi, for the life of him, had no bloody clue what to do. When his father got shit-faced, well, it usually meant that Aoshi was the one to fall unconscious first. "Ya think… Maybe… MAYBE!!!"… Kamatari shushed himself, blinking lazily in the darkness, "… that you could maybe… maybe…" his voice trailed as if he were forgetting what he was going to say.

"… that you'd be the one to set him free." Aoshi's eyes did widen, for no one to see, and in Kamatari's brief check with reality – that bout of sudden seriousness and clarity in his voice – it all came together. But as soon as it hit, it was gone, and Kamatari dropped his feet to the floor and slide down the end of the bed, till he was crouched in front of it. All Aoshi could really see was a shadowy hand waving a scolding finger in the air. "You gotta thank that lady for me…"

"… Sanjou-sensei?" Aoshi blurted, before he could realize what he was saying. He could sense Kamatari nodding.

"That's the one! Gad, who'd know a *woman* would show me the one I love…" Kamatari burst into empty giggles, which soon were dragged out by a gagging noise, and coughing. "…nigh'night 'yoshi."

As the room was lulled back to silence, Aoshi could've sworn he heard a whispered, "… daisuki."

So maybe it all had meaning after all.


	36. Chapter 36 - Unicorns and Liquor Don't M...

Author's Note:

Shounen-ai warning. You know what that means dontcha? More angsty Kama-chan. XD But seriously. I'm just establishing characters mostly… everyone has several sides, some which everyone doesn't get to see. Even though Kama-chan is a fun character, I still want to emphasize his humanity. Just so he can't only function as a "total perv sex freak cross-dresser." Or maybe I'm just sadistic with all the characters I choose to include. O.o; Tell me whatcha think.

===

It was always a shame that real life experiences usually don't have their own slot on resumes. For example, you can't put "Experience with Drunks" under volunteer work. Of course this could only be attached with the description: "held hair back to prevent for vomiting."

And although all stars were pointing to "stay the hell away from the fire water," Aoshi still found himself saddled at a nearby yuppie bar next to his brother… who didn't fit in. Honestly, the man didn't even know what to order, hence, why he needed Sano there. That, and only alcoholics and desperates drink alone. And even if Aoshi was either, he didn't want to appear as such. The boy next to him, coincidentally related by some twist of fate, was currently devouring a set of grease encrusted wings.

"Ya'sure you don't want any? Y'shouldn't drink on an empty stomach," he said through sputtering chicken skin. Aoshi merely shrugged, and went back to looking at the glass in front of him. The man sat beside him with his elbows on the bar, and his fingers pressed into the bridge of his nose. Then the bartender appeared. He was an odd looking character, who seemed to always have one eye closed. Aoshi thought it might've been the man's anti-gravitational hair weighing down one side of his skull more than the other. "Hey, pal, can I get another?" Sano pointed his finger back to his empty glass.

Aoshi still didn't touch his drink. He told Sano that he wasn't here for serious drinking, but his brother had ordered for him before he walked in the door. So they were both drinking Manhattans. At four-thirty in the afternoon. Why? Because Sano liked the cherry.

(Manhattans, for those who don't know, is served in a martini glass. However, unlike a martini, the drink is red, and has no gin. ^_^; It's similarly chilled and strained with shaved ice, and has whiskey or bourbon, with sweet vermouth, sometimes angostura bitters, and a cherry. If none of that means anything to you, then just think of a martini that's red. )

Frankly, it looked like a chick drink, Aoshi reasoned. He was making excuses for not drinking. Gad, he knew the magical qualities the stuff had, but he also knew… he knew. Resting his forehead in his hand, he watched as a plate of those tiny little cocktail sandwiches appeared in front of him. 'What the…' He gave his brother a sidelong glance.

"Since ya don't appreciate good grease," and the boy continued to crunch through chicken bone. Where the hell did Sanosuke learn how to be a brother?

'When the hell did he get to know me so well?' Tucking that question to the back of his mind, he straightened up to proper posture, and eyed his drink once more. A voice, his brother's, came up beside him… scented oddly by the mix of chicken and whiskey. Aoshi swore that boy had no taste buds and was doing one helluvan injustice to his stomach.

"Ya don't gotta do it," the voice was soft, but was obviously still forcing some manliness. Sano wasn't going to be pointed out as being a softy that's for sure. "I mean, I dunno _where you came up with the idea to go drinkin', but ya'could get a virgin." Sano nudged Aoshi's side with his elbow, winking like he had a disease concerning nerve endings. And just when Aoshi was gathering hope that Sano had grown up._

Shaking his head, he knocked the drink back in one go.

*-*-*-*

Misao approached the classroom where her detention was supposed to be. Honjou-sensei was more than pleased to constantly remind her that she was the only person who could possibly manage detention on the very first day. It was almost like the woman was going to pat her on the back for a good job at screwing up.

Her feet were dragged behind her, and she could almost drown out all of Tsubame's soft words. The girl was trying to coax Misao back to her energetic self. Granted, she hadn't seen much of it, but there was definitely a spark when she stared down those two knuckleheads that morning. Tsubame smiled and patted Misao on the back, "It's only an hour…"

"Yeah yeah…" Misao droaned. They parted ways at the door, and Misao waved sullenly as she watched Tsubame scamper off to freedom. Placing her hand on the door knob, she took a deep breath and let herself in.

Nobody was there. She blinked, glancing at the clock. Classes ended at ten to three, and her sentence was to begin at three. Her watch said two after. She smirked, crossing her arms triumphantly.

"Well!" She exclaimed to no one in particular, "Since there's no one here no point in me staying…" Unconsciously swinging around to exit the door she had just opened, she rammed smack into something. No, doors aren't made out of well chiseled flesh covered with pressed linen. 'Not. Again.'

"Miss Makimachi. So glad you could grace my detention hall with your presence," a large calloused hand settled on her shoulder as the man pushed past her. "Take a seat."

'Great, just great. Hiko-sensei probably thinks I'm a trouble-maker now. Damn you Honjou!' she shook her fist a little in front of her, out of sight of the teacher and spun around and unceremoniously dropped herself into a seat and pouted. She could ogle the physics' teacher anytime this term during class, but right now she was in the mood to devise the demise of one certain etiquette teacher.

Several minutes, and six ticks later, she was stirred out of her thoughts of homicide by a deep cough. Glancing up briefly, she saw Hiko-sensei leaning over the podium at the front of the room. "So exactly what did you do to get detention on the first day? 'cause you know. I wouldn't be here if it wasn't for you."

Misao winced. Hiko-sensei tugged a piece of crumpled paper out of his pocket and spread it out on the podium. "… Makimachi Misao, one-hour detention, assigned by…" there was a pause, and Misao swore she saw the man shudder, "Honjou Kamatari." The girl merely nodded in defeat.

"Look. I'm going to turn and examine the black board for any cracks. If while I do this, the one and only student here decided to leave, and save the rest of this hour of my time…" Misao's eyes bugged out as she watched as the handsome rugged visage slowly turned away from her. Then she became oddly fascinated with the way the muscles of his back worked beneath his shirt. Her jaw audibly clicked as she shut her mouth to prevent from drooling. The teacher shook his head, "… *anytime* now, while I'm looking *away*…" He snapped his fingers three times in succession.

It wasn't like he wasn't accustomed to being ogled. He just had better things to do, and if it was just *one* student anyway… and hell it was assigned by Honjou, so it was probably something girly and stupid. He recalled the time a girl was sent to detention for the nervous habit of biting her nails. Four ticks later, Hiko-sensei swiped a hand over his face. The girl had yet to move.

This being because she was in shock. A teacher was letting her get away with it? Granted, she could've said that the books she'd been balancing on her head *accidentally* tumbled and whacked Honjou-sensei repeatedly… She snickered. 'Gad that was good…'

"Look. I know I'm sexy. But I'm a teacher. The longer you stare, the more forbidden I become," there was a verbal grin attached to his words to match the widening grin on his face. "… just get out of here, will ya?" He waved his hand towards the nearest exit, taking a moment and then walking out himself. Glancing at her before he left, he just rolled his eyes dismissively. Ah the trials of being a god.

It took about another thirty seconds for Misao to snap out of it, and she jettisoned out of her chair and bounded out of those gates as fast as she could before any of the other teachers – specifically that freak Honjou – saw her.

*-*-*-*

Hiko Seijurou was walking back to the science resource room, where all the science teachers desks were, and found a woman blocking the doorway. Correction, it was just Kamatari. Rolling his eyes once more, he gingerly pushed the slight figure out of his way to collect his things.

"Seiji-kun's been a bad boy…" Kamatari arched against the door frame, and clucked his tongue. "Letting her get off so easy…" Waving a scolding finger, "What would the principal say?"

"That chain-smoking toothpick can say what he wants, and you –" He pointed accusingly at the man in woman's clothing as he gathered his briefcase and straightened his blazer. "What would the principal say to a teacher making excuses to keep another teacher on the premises as long as possible in the hopes to jump into his pants for a tryst in the janitor's closet?" As much as this fed his ego, Hiko had places to go, people to see, and sake to drink.

Kamatari's back dropped onto the door frame, and pouted. His arms folded in front of him, and he raised one hand to gesture through the air, "Well gee, when you put it that way you just kill the romance…"

Pushing past the smaller man again, taking a glance around to make sure no one was around. A few select students and teachers were around, but they were engrossed in Q&A about the ins and outs of the class requirements and all that worthless dribble. Hiko locked eyes with Honjou, and while the okami looked almost hopeful, with a sparkle in his eyes… Hiko promptly backhanded him to the backside of his head.

Kamatari took it off-handedly, and chuckled, elbowing Hiko as he made his way out the door. He was oddly delighted when those who knew of his double life treated him like one of the guys. That only other time anyone did that was…

His eyes regained their sparkle, as his hands rubbed together in front of him. Kamatari had some strings to pull, and they were attached to one Shinomori Aoshi. He practically skipped over to his desk over in the humanities division and plotted.

*-*-*-*

"Look broomhead, *I'll* tell ya when mah'damn limit is!" Sano's fist slammed onto the bar top. Although, all the customers, after about Sano's third drink, knew the signs and lifted their glasses so they wouldn't tumble and spill. Of course, these were the patrons who decided to remain at the bar, if for no other reason than a good show.

Aoshi, on the other hand, wanted to crawl into a hole and die. He'd followed his Manhattan with shot of tequila, which burned all the way down his throat, but somehow managed to dull his senses to the feeling all at the same time. He was only getting a mild buzz, but the suicidal tendency lurking was a result of overbearing embarrassment of being out in public with his brother. 

This is why he didn't drink.

It always led to violence. And he didn't quite know the etiquette when calling one's mother to tell them that you've torn her other son limb by limb.

*-*-*-*

Aoshi's last experience with alcohol, that didn't include the occasional glass of wine with dinner or champagne for a celebration, was of course… back in college, with none other than the infamous Honjou Kamatari.

Kamatari was generally annoying, but he got worse when they reached college. The times they were supposed to live out to the fullest in every method of debauchery available. It made Aoshi want to put his head through a wall every time he was locked out of the dorm room because Kamatari was having "guests". On one occasion Kamatari forgot the age-old sign of leaving a tie on the door knob for "do not disturb" and Aoshi remembered trying to count the number of limbs peeking out of the bed sheets to take note of exactly how *many* people were participating. Hell, if Kamatari focused on sports rather than sex, he'd have easily rounded up a soccer team.

Not that he hadn't wrapped his finger around a couple of the players. Aoshi quickly retreated, but gave Kamatari a piece of his mind the following day. Well, afternoon – when Kamatari awoke to the land of the living. Aoshi wondered where the hell Kamatari found the time to keep his grades up. As far as he knew, his roommate's schedule consisted of drinking, partying, sex, and pestering Aoshi to do any of the above with him.

One day it had just snapped, and Aoshi had agreed to go to some stupid frat party just to get his roommate off his back. This was the last time he drank, and the reasoning behind never wanting to do it again.

Because Aoshi wasn't well versed in the party life, he was never told that he should always get his own drinks. What he knew of drugs and mikies, was what he read in the paper. Some girl found with this in her system in this alley with this many samples of semen strewn all over her bukkake style… Aoshi couldn't have known that there are those who try to pull this shit on guys as well. In particularly the ones who show up with other guys like Kamatari, who was flamboyant in his lack of sexual preference.

Kamatari should've told him. He should've warned him. He should've known Aoshi wouldn't know heads or tails. And hell, when he found him, Aoshi didn't know what a head was or a tail. It was about an hour and a half into the party, when Kamatari searched out for his bosom buddy. They'd been broken up at the door when Kamatari was pounced on by some people he knew, and Aoshi resigned himself to the wall. It was one of those times Kamatari cursed being so small, because couldn't carry Aoshi to the dorms himself.

The boy wasn't as dumb as he looked. Sure, he was a lil' tipsy himself, but unless he was sure who slipped Aoshi whatever the hell they gave him… He wouldn't put his friend – a friendship that was mostly one way, but anyhow – he wouldn't put his friend in the hands of danger. Although, he sort of already did, and he felt like shit for it.

Their dorm was only just across the palisade, but Kamatari couldn't carry him all the way there. He was tipsy, and Aoshi was even heavier when passed out. Because of his girly figure, that men and women alike drooled after, he had to call a cab on his cell to take him forty seconds away.

Lucky for him, the cabby was a nice Persian fellow, who had lived in England since a young age. Kamatari had a nice little chat, versing his improving English skills, as the cabby helped him carry his fallen angel to their dorm room. Granted, it cost an extra three bucks, but hey, at least he got to practice some English that was civil. You know, other than things like, "hard" "fuck" "baby" "lick" "suck"… well, you get the idea.

Kamatari paid the man, and got his card. The Persian's name was Robbie – or at least that's what the card said. In the future, Kamatari would get accustomed to calling said cabby to his rescue, but that's in other news. Now he had to face the problem of what the hell to do with his roommate.

Flipping the lights on and wincing as his eyes adjusted, he sat on the side of Aoshi's bed where he laid still and almost had a waxy complexion to him. In other words, he looked dead. Kamatari flipped out his compact mirror to check if Aoshi was breathing. He was, faintly, and slowly. Snapping it shut with a click, he took a deep breath and did the unthinkable.

He slapped Aoshi.

Kamatari had dealt with this sort of thing before, and this was the part of the procedure that was the most harmful – to his own person. He'd known people to jump up and deck him… but at least that was better than when the person started gagging and choking on their own vomit, because even if you had a black eye, at least you knew they were going to be okay. If Aoshi had jumped up and decked him, Kamatari would have a lot less things to worry about than just the hangover he'd be nursing tomorrow morning. Like a handful of broken ribs, and if he were lucky, no punctured organs.

But there was a method to his madness. Kamatari cupped Aoshi's face with both hands, tilting his head back slightly… using the tips of his fore and middle fingers he pulled Aoshi's eyes open. The pupils were a little dilated, but that wasn't too bad, and the redness was quickly fading. He concluded that Aoshi was given nothing but a really strong cocktail, which he could just sleep off.

Breathing a sigh of relief he'd been holding in for quite some time, he went about stripping Aoshi and putting him to bed. First went the shoes, and the socks… Kamatari paused at the pants. He noted that they were nice pants. Well-made pants. Well-fitting pants. The boy smacked himself for his perversion. Even if he could get Aoshi to wake up, he wouldn't accept any of Kamatari's advances… and even if he did, both would probably pass out before anything reached completion.

Yanking off the pants and hanging them up along with Aoshi's belt, he left the larger boy there in just his dress shirt and boxers. So he'll have to suffer a few wrinkles, it would be better than Kamatari risking having to nurse a raging hard-on in addiction to a hangover. It's a bitch to jerk off with a power drill rumbling in your skull… Having to nod your head back and forth while he moans… Let's just say that didn't help the migraine.

Kamatari's hands fluttered at the side of his head as if to banish all those naughty naughty thoughts out of his mind. Opening his eyes and gazing down at his fallen comrade, he did one more thing for him. It took a lot of effort, as he'd been exerting himself more than usual in the past hour or so, he turned Aoshi over, and left his head resting on his cheek near the edge of the bed. His legs sort of hung off the other end… but if Aoshi suddenly had the need to vomit, he'd either do it in the trashcan waiting for him by his head (which Kamatari neatly placed there for him), or he'd vomit where he was, but it would have less of a chance of coming back down his throat and blocking his air passage.

Getting ready to go to bed himself, Kamatari shuffled out of his shoes, and shimmied out of his liquid leather pants. He fished out a pair of boxers, thinking if he rolled out of bed or something in the night – Aoshi wouldn't want to deal with see Kamatari going el commando. Dragging off his mesh shirt he draped it over his desk chair. His hand drifted to the back of his neck as he stared out the window. He was sore. Tired. And everything was laced with a hazy liquor induced fuzz. It wasn't the first time he asked himself why he did this to himself.

But this time he'd done it to Aoshi. He could pretend to forgive himself for doing it alone, but this time there was another victim. His gaze turned guiltily to the boy… he looked like a boy that way. Sleeping as if he hadn't a care in the world, with his head lolled to the side, and just the faintest trail of saliva dripping from the corner of his mouth leaving a trail that was caught by the moonlight. Kamatari almost chuckled, but then lost his humor when he recalled how he got Aoshi into this mess in the first place.

Sighing, Kamatari dropped down beside Aoshi watching him sleep. He did the forbidden once more, and stroked the other boy's back… a ghost of a smile appearing on his lips. He would be okay. Kamatari screwed up, but Aoshi was going to be okay.

Leaning back and resting on his side facing Aoshi, his fingertips flittered at the tips of his bangs and brushed them aside to look at his roommate and drink him in. This wouldn't happen again. Ever. Not if Kamatari had a breath in his body. If he hadn't found him, someone might've… or he might've… and then…

Kamatari shook his head, nuzzling his face into the bed. It smelled like him. It was warm like him. Aoshi radiated heat… but it could've been the liquor coursing through their veins causing the blood to circulate faster. But he was so warm… There was someone tender beneath that iron clad mask, Kamatari could feel it. He just could never reach it.

The sudden image of Aoshi with a horn on his head and a name tag that had "Kama-chan's Unicorn" in big bold letters popped into mind. Kamatari giggled softly, cupping his hand over his mouth. Aoshi sure looked silly with a horn on his head. But, he was… Kamatari could never have him. Could never be with him. He was there but out of reach… never meant to be truly possessed by anyone or anything. For the umpteenth time, he sighed, letting his eyes drift shut.

This would be the only and the last time he would be bold enough to do something like this. It was worth risking bodily harm, if just for this short time he could… Without realizing what he was doing, Kamatari slipped an arm around Aoshi's waist and curled his smaller form into his chest. Just this once.

The two boys, at the sweet ripe age of seventeen and a half, were entangled in slumber… both dreaming wistfully of a better place than here.

It was when Aoshi awoke, and saw the scene in front of him… the two were stripped, and Kamatari was mostly naked, himself, half naked, with a trashcan with used condoms in it (from Kamatari's past exploits)… and the odd taste in his mouth… he assumed the worst.

This is why he never drank.


	37. Chapter 37 - A Hairy Situation

Author's Note:

I've actually had this chapter laying around, waiting to follow it up so that I could upload two chapters at a time as I usually have. However, I've been focused on my Gundam Wing Fanfic, "How to Write a Fanfic Review, Gundam Wing Style" and the Rurouni Kenshin equivalent. I'm basically just uploading this to appease the people who have been super loyal and extra-betrayed by an author like me. @.@; I realize it's not as climactic as many of you might have been waiting for, but until I'm done with "How to Write a Fanfic Review, Gundam Wing Style" – "Curl" will be on an undetermined hiatus. Sorry. ;_;*

===

Kamatari never did tell Aoshi the truth about that night. Nor, did Aoshi have the balls to ask. It drove him crazy that every time they came across one another, Kamatari would look like he had a dirty little secret. He'd always seemed like the happy-go-lucky free spirited type, who pulled pranks, liked to rustle feathers… but he had reasons, too.

It was one of the few things he had gotten from Aoshi that he could keep to himself, for himself. He knew it wasn't fair, but neither was life. The life that had lead him skimping from one bed into another, from one hell into the next, and from old loneliness a new one is born. It was these crazy clichés that always circled around his head that drove him to drink. The guy friends he had wanted to talk about sex, the girl friend wanted to talk about love… Granted, there were those who didn't fit that mold. There was the occasional girl sex fiend or the overly sensitive lovesick guy. But it never seemed like these two qualities – sex, love – ever mixed in Kamatari's world.

However both of these things seemed very soluble in alcohol.

When Aoshi had walked into the classroom, in his finely pressed suit, with that *girl*… Kamatari didn't know whether to pounce or to claw. First, he's with a girl who is obviously too old to be his daughter. Second, Aoshi didn't recognize him. However… Aoshi was looking pretty damn hot. And he always knew when a guy was checking him out…

Kamatari could have some real fun with this. And not only could he dabble in Aoshi-torture, there was the rather interesting addition of this girl, Misao. Drumming his womanly fingers together, he plotted devilishly. He didn't want to destroy anything or anyone, he just… wanted to have a little fun.

You know. For old time's sake.

*-*-*-*

"How could you *forget*…" Aoshi grunted, and swiped his hand over his face as they double-timed it back to the apartment. Rather, he double-timed… Sano sort of, stumbled in the background. Apparently for today's torture, Kamatari was not needed.

"Well, it's not every day the great –" There was a dramatic pause, as Sano posed for no one imparticular. "Shinomori Aoshi!... invites his debonair, suave, cunning, devishly handsome…"

"… jackass…"

"… kid brother – oy hey! At least he couldn't get back into your room right?" Sano offhandedly chuckled, as memories flooded back. He firmly recalled Aoshi locking his door before coming downstairs. He'd been so taken off guard by Aoshi's sudden craving for liquor, particularly so early in the afternoon, that Sano had totally and utterly forgotten to do something about the dog. So poor Pochi was at home, alone…

"I'm not calling the cleaning crew back if it's your room he defecates," Aoshi said flatly, and Sano streamed into a few choice curses. The younger of the two brothers started dragging behind, until he saw his elder reach the doors of the apartment building they cohabitated. Sano sped up, jogging up as not to miss the window where he wouldn't have to open the door for himself.

"Alright alright, I'm sorry! I'm sorry! How many times do I gotta say it – I'm sorry!" Aoshi only replied him with silence. They got into the elevator, standing side by side, Aoshi tapping his foot as the numbers didn't climb fast enough. He wasn't one to beg for forgiveness… and Sano had to guess the little alcohol that was in his system was doing it. It helped that Sano had *a lot* of alcohol in his system so that he could later pretend none of this happened. Plus, what if he really did end up needing a cleaning crew?

It wasn't until the elevator stopped that Aoshi took in a calming breath, had a half millisecond meditation, and the doors opened. Sano glanced over at his brother, wondering why he hadn't moved – until he was roughly shoved out first. His brother came up behind him, and he flinched away overly cautious. 'Better safe than sorry, broken, and mangled, is what I always say.' He saw that Aoshi was going to say something once he reached the door to the apartment. Sano jumped behind him at the sudden halt in movement, and peeked over his brother's shoulder. Neither was sure what was going to be the scene behind that door, but the elder had learned his lesson. Aoshi purposefully made sure his brother was close by.

This time, Sano wouldn't have a door to hide behind.

*-*-*-*

Misao was already home, more than thankful she was able to get back and maybe nap off some stress. Although her body didn't quite agree, and wouldn't sit idle, so instead, she was telling Pochi the importance of self-defense. Her workout was a steady one, as she hadn't practiced for some time, so she was tentatively taking it easy. Plus, she had to go slow for her pupil, the furry one that was licking his own privates, to follow the lesson.

Needless to say, neither Aoshi nor Sano suspected they'd walk in and see Misao in the living room in absurdly short shorts and a muscle tank with sweat just beginning to glisten her features. They didn't *stare* really, so much as just watched in idle fascination as Misao instructed a puppy with a lower attention span than her own, the Zen principles behind balance in body and mind. 

Her hair was in its trademark braid, but she… She was built like a woman, that's for sure… This being a fact that both Aoshi and Sano were made uncomfortably well aware of in those few seconds. Misao also sounded like a woman. Her tone was almost maternal, and soothing in its melody. The control she had over her physical form was equally fascinating, with a feminine grace. And yet, she was trying to carry a philosophical lecture to a hyperactive puppy. All previous observations were forfeited as being a result of intoxication in both men's minds.

Her back was facing them, and if they were paying attention to the puppy, they would've noted that Pochi was currently trying to bite off the mini-Rambo bandana that Misao had fashioned him with. Shredded socks shouldn't go to waste after all.

"Now see here Pochi, you have to – and this is the golden rule! Expect the unexpec-…" In the middle of a spin kick round house combo, the foot Misao had been balancing on slipped on the carpet as she was taken off guard by Aoshi and Sano just appearing magically in the door way.

Their first instinct was to run to her aid. They settled for shaking their heads in shame. Sano and Aoshi exchanged a side-long glance, the statement Misao had just fallen on – literally – circling through both their minds. This resulted in the same thought through all three human occupants.

'Some martial artists we are.'

*-*-*-*

Aoshi opened up the sliding door to his balcony to let his room air out. It still smelled of a cleaning product cocktail, and it was really making him nauseous. Last he checked, Misao was going to take a shower, with Sano in line next… He sighed heavily. Now that he was alone, he was unable to hide from the onslaught from his subconscious.

Not only was he more than well aware that he had just ogled a girl that cold be hypothetically be his daughter, he'd noted that his brother had done the same exact thing. Aoshi wasn't even sure if Sano realized… As if it wasn't bad enough dealing with his own feelings… If he were any normal brother perhaps he'd sit his brother down and have a chummy heart to heart, with lots of laughs and lots of pats on the back. But of course, he had to be Aoshi. 

Pressing his back into the door frame, looking out onto the horizon, he folded his arms in front of himself. Misao was one hundred and fifty percent off limits. It was like a little "to do" or grocery list that he had built up in his head in the past sixty seconds tabulating all the reasons why he should in no way even think there would be the remote possibility… He banged his head against the metal frame to jar his thoughts back to reality.

He was jarred out of his thoughts by the ringing of his telephone.

*-*-*-*

Misao stumbled out of the bathroom door, trying to hold one towel around her body, and balance another on top of her head. Her phone was ringing, now if only she could remember where the bloody thing was. Tripping over her own foot, and then over Pochi, the golly good pup was yapping at her musical backpack.

'Musical… backpack?' The final chords of the into bass line of "Tank!" were almost over and she dived for her cell, risking the impending rug burn. Turning it over and upside down – or right side up, as the case may be, she nearly barked, "Hello? Hello!?!"… She started cursing and shaking the chiming gadget when she couldn't hear anything, and the blasted thing kept ringing. *Right!* She was supposed to press something, and that she did and –

"My pret~ty Misao-chan…!" an aged jolly voice sang out of the transceiver. Usually, Misao would have loved to hear from her grandfather after her first day at school. Maybe even rattle on and on about all the details. But it hadn't been a good first day. No… she had been in detention. By a teacher of a class she should've never had. Why did she have this class?

"… Jiya." The other side of the line sounded dead, as Misao's voice was obviously drenched with venom. There was an extended pause interrupted by the knocking on Sano's bathroom door.

"Hey you done in there yet?!" Sano's voice carried through the door into her room. Covering the receiver instinctively she yelled off an affirmative, getting up to close her bathroom door. She was still in a state of undress, and as she began tugging clothes on she was still waiting for some apology, excuse, anything to prevent her from killing the old man over the invisible telephone line.

"… … … so!" Jiya so eloquently started. "How was the move…?" He was carefully tiptoeing around the school issue, and if he wanted to play that way, they'd play that way, sure…

"Oh you know… Fun for one and all," she said in the dullest voice she could possibly manage. Tugging on some underwear and fishing out a t-shirt, she was met with silence on the other end of the phone.

"And Aoshi? Sano?..." She was waiting for him to get to the school part. Just waiting. Baiting. Ready to wail on him the second he brought it up… Heads were gonna roll.  Jiya had been a practical joker as far back as she could remember, but enrolling her into ballet was by far the least funny thing he's every done in his old age.

"Fine, fine…" Whether that was true or not, Misao didn't really pay attention. She knew the only thing left to talk about was school, and when he did she would –

"Well then…" Here it comes. "…see you at the holidays!"

And that was it. She looked at her phone as if it were broken. Shook it a bit, brought it back to her ear, but no. The call had ended. Stomping her feet on the floor, she threw her phone onto the bed where it bounced on the mattress. All the while, Pochi watched the gadget through the air and wondered if this was another game. Yapping and jumping around at Misao's feet, he nuzzed about evading her stomping as if it was some twisted version of whack-a-mole. Misao snatched up the pup roughly, though Pochi was still thinking of all this as a game and merely lapped at her face when she drew him up.

"When I get my hands on that man, Pochi…" her voice was forced into a sugary sweet mold. "… I am going to tear him limb from limb and you're gonna have a nummy wummy barbequed old pervert buffet… yes you are yes you a~re…" she added with a lilt in her voice, and put the puppy down and tugged on the t-shirt she'd picked out.

"Born to Raise Hell."

*-*-*-*

There was something odd about this shower. Sano, with soap suds running down his face, his eyes firmly shut, he couldn't quite put his fingers on it. His hands were working up a lather on his unruly locks as the scalding hot water streamed down his features and… pooled around his ankles???

"What the HELL!?!?!" He managed to sputter out and hurriedly scraped away the soap from his eyes and rinsed out his hair. Looking down he noticed that the glass encased shower had filled up and the water level was quickly rising. Shutting off the taps quickly, he looked at the mini-lagoon he found himself in. The water was clouded with soap, shampoo, and what have you, and obviously the drain was clogged. Granted, it took the intoxicated man a full minute and two shivers to reach this conclusion.

Reaching down towards the floor, bent over funnily in the closed quarters, he fished around for the drain so he could let the water run out, rather than spill out all over the bathroom floor. That wouldn't have been the best method to get back on Aoshi's good side, that's for sure.

*-*-*-*

"FUCK!" Misao blinked as her bathroom … spoke? No, cursed. It was a rumbly curse at that. If Misao was in any mood to be humorous, she might've chuckled. Once she was properly clothed and her hair was combed, and she'd beaten up a pillow or three, she was… variably calmer. Padding over to the bathroom door, she glanced at Pochi as if he would know better than her what was awaiting her. If a puppy could shrug, he would have.

Rapping her slender knuckles on the door, "Mou. Sano, what's all the fuss about?" She blinked as she suddenly felt the carpet… mush? Yes, definitely mushy. A lil' squishy. She squeaked as the carpet around the door steadily darkened, and the mass was spreading. "What the hell are you –" The door she was reprimanded was replaced by a very unhappy Sano who had a hand full of dark, and very long hair. And it looked like there was a trail of it coming all the way from the shower. 'Uh oh.'

"And WHOSE do you think this is?!"

Misao shrugged and chuckled nervously, "…The tooth fairy's?" Lucky for her, between holding up his towel, and holding her hair, he had no hands to grapple at her with as she darted away.

*-*-*-*

Sano's yelling made it across the way, and it didn't take Aoshi long to figure what had transgressed. Just when he thought things couldn't get much worse.

Needless to say, dinner that evening was tighter than a piano string, ready to snap (or in this case, explode) at any given moment. Food was unrightfully glared at, the comfort level diminishing into the negatives, all save for one absurdly cheerful puppy that was currently enamored with Sano and sat behind his chair all through out dinner.

"Misao-chan," … the first thing said for quite some time. The girl winced and looked down at her plate guiltily. And rightfully, since well, this was all her fault. "Yours and Sano's bathroom cannot be fixed until Friday –" He paused briefly to let the information sink in. "So you two will have to share mine until then."

Aoshi didn't like this at all, though his expression (or lack there of) didn't show it. It was bad enough that his dream had all been set with in his bathroom, and that three out of the four – no, five – other players in it will be sharing it… but now that it had to be reality… He needed another drink. Not to mention he'd have to figure out some magical way to prevent this from happening again, and somehow, he didn't see Misao willingly going for a haircut.

Misao looked guilty as sin, and the "Born to Raise Hell" t-shirt wasn't helping her plead her case. She didn't have to be a mind reader to know how Aoshi felt about his sanctuary. Even though she'd finally be allowed into it, she was hoping it would have been under nicer circumstances… rather than out of sheer practicality and necessity. It was difficult not to pout. There was something about this that just cried disaster, and it was one that could've been easily avoided if she had less hair.

Sano was in between emotions – it was nice that he would get to use Aoshi's bathroom, but it just wasn't as much fun if he was *allowed* to do it. Although, he did note how Aoshi pointedly did not address him. He was going to hold him responsible for that Pochi episode for some time to come. As if it wasn't bad enough that he already owed Misao for one little slip up, now he had to lose the ball in Aoshi's court to boot. World: 2, Sano: nada… Three if you include the fact that the puppy was allowed to remain there against his will. He had to get his act together, and how.__

And our super hero of the hour, Pochi, hadn't a care in the world as he lapped down the fur over his privates.


End file.
